


Stories Not So Untold

by hmweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Dead Cats, Divorced Audrey Weasley & Percy Weasley, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fertility Issues, First Dates, Fishing, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini, Multi, Old Age, One-Sided Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Past Character Death, Past Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Quidditch, Retirement, Threats of Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-07-05 10:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 25,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15861780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmweasley/pseuds/hmweasley
Summary: A collection of ficlets that don't fit into my other collections.22: Lily just wanted to use the bathroom. She didn't expect to find a ghost.23: Lisa never wanted to be part of a war, but her brother had different ideas.24: Blaise doesn't understand why Draco will fight for Astoria when he wouldn't fight for him.25: During her first Order meeting, Tonks feels out of place, but she's quickly drawn to Remus Lupin.26: Hermione's not sure the world will care what she has to saw, but her partners assure her they will.27: Pansy never asked to fall for Hermione Granger.28: Phineas puts his book away when Ursula comes to bed.29: Andromeda relaxes on her birthday.30: Graham cares far more about work than he does dating.31:  Andromeda had hoped that somehow she could keep both her family and Ted. It had been a foolish hope.32: Albus wants to fulfill his duties to his siblings until Gellert makes himself seem more important than anything else.33: Some wedding traditions Fleur can't escape the thrall of.34: After becoming a ghost, the Fat Friar visits his brother.35: Gideon doesn't like following the rules.





	1. Someday, We'll See (Blaise)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: write about Blaise Zabini
> 
> Warning for implications of an unhealthy, controlling relationship.

Blaise scowled as he sidestepped a mother with a toddler hanging off either hand. He would never understand how anyone could stomach having twins. One child was a necessity if you had a name worthy of being passed on. Only sentimental fools had two or more, let alone at the same time.

He kept his eyes on the books as he entered Flourish and Blotts. The shopkeepers didn't like him, which was fine. It wasn't as if he held any respect for them either. The owner of the place often spaced out when you were speaking to him, and the workers he hired were inefficient at best and imbeciles at worst. Unfortunately, the shop stocked the widest range of wizarding books in Britain, and there were times when Blaise couldn't afford the time it took to have a book shipped by owl.

He identified the correct aisle only to be confronted with Draco Malfoy flipping through a book. Blaise froze in place to assess the situation.

It had been a year since he'd seen Draco. Back then, his former friendーif they were ever friendsーhadn't even been engaged, but Blaise knew from the Prophet that he and Astoria Greengrass had married earlier in the summer. It paid to keep a close tab on his former schoolmates. He'd sent a polite gift to the wedding, but he wasn't upset about not having been invited to what had been touted as a small, private affair. All of wizarding Britain knew the older Malfoys weren't happy with their son's choice of wife. Blaise wanted to keep himself as neutral as possible in the affair.

Blaise had been expecting Draco to look weaker when he next saw him, but he didn't look like a man scorned by his family. He looked the same as always, though perhaps less pale than he'd been during his stint as a Death Eater. Despite that, Blaise hoped Draco came to regret his choice of marriage. He never could stand the pompous attitude Draco carried himself with when it was clear to everyone else that he hadn't a clue what he was doing.

When Draco looked up and noticed his presence, Blaise was scowling. A frown creased Draco's forehead, and his eyes narrowed. Without saying a word, he placed his book back on the shelf and approached, sticking out his hand for the customary handshake.

"Blaise," he said conversationally, as if no time had passed since they'd last seen each other. As if he hadn't kept Blaise off the guest list to his wedding with no explanation except the one Blaise had received from the newspaper. "What have you been up to?"

Blaise shrugged, casting an uninterested glance around the store.

Truthfully, he hadn't been up to much that would provide an interesting story. His days were more than satisfactory. Being free of school gave him all the time in the world to delve into his real interests: uncovering information and passing it onto the Ministry for consideration. It wasn't an actual job by any means—Blaise had little use for one of those—but it had already reaped him countless rewards.

Draco wouldn't be interested in that. Blaise knew how much time Lucius Malfoy had spent at the Ministry once upon a time.

Instead, he shared the one piece of personal information he was sure would pique Draco's interest.

"I'm not sure if you've heard, but I'm engaged."

Draco nodded.

"To Pansy. Yes, I heard through Daphne."

Blaise scowled. He'd told Pansy repeatedly to break off that unfortunate friendship, but apparently, she hadn't yet listened.

Not willing to air his dirty laundry in front of Draco, he forced a smile onto his face.

"It must be surprising. She was smitten with you during our Hogwarts years after all."

Draco laughed, looking the closest to ease that he had been since he'd noticed Blaise.

"Pansy was never smitten with me. She wanted a nice pureblood husband, and I was willing to pay attention to her. She still got what she wanted in the end, though I'm sure she was hoping for someone from the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

Blaise's smile was thin.

"Yes, she agrees that she made a rather foolish display of herself over the years."

Draco smirked, and Blaise felt his blood begin to boil.

"If you're trying to work me up, Zabini, it's not going to work. I'm married, remember? Honestly, if I wanted to marry Pansy, I could have. As you pointed out, she was for the idea once."

Blaise's hands tightened into fists, and he bit his tongue as Draco's eyes narrowed.

"We're in the middle of a shop," Draco said in a low voice. "Do you really wish to cause a scene?"

He didn't. Blaise shook his head, clearing it as best he could and forcing his hands to relax.

"You always were far more conceited than you had any right to be, Malfoy."

Draco laughed, this one more biting than the others.

"Perhaps, but I'm not the only one you could say that about."

Blaise couldn't stop his right hand from wrapping around his wand in the pocket of his robes, but he wasn't yet angry enough to draw it.

"Perhaps," he echoed, barely moving his lips. "I suppose we'll see who's more deserving someday."

Draco smirked.

"Are you threatening me or just making predictions about the future too vague to come true?"

Blaise didn't humour him with a response as he took a step backward and released his grip on his wand.

"Farewell, Draco. Have a nice shopping trip. I'm sure I'll see you again."

Draco snorted.

"Yeah, one would imagine. See you, Blaise."

Blaise kept his head high as he grabbed the book he'd come for from the shelf and approached the register to pay for it. The worker hardly looked at him as she worked, and Blaise smirked with satisfaction as he left, certain that Draco was still watching.


	2. I Look Forward to It (Harry/Oliver)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry waits for Oliver after a match, nervous to ask the question that's been on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for two events. One of them is Slash September. I used Harry and chose to write Harry/Oliver. The other was the Back to School event, from which I used the prompt "question".

Harry stood outside the Puddlemere United locker rooms, pacing back and forth. The press conference after the game had taken ages. Every reporter in Europe wanted to speak with the team after the huge upset they’d pulled off.

It had been a remarkable game that had kept Harry on the edge of his seat. He was just grateful that it had distracted him for a few hours from the question he’d set his mind on asking. Nothing was distracting him any longer.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

The decor was atrocious. The colours on the hangings had faded; they were hardly recognizable as the team’s colours any longer. He hoped someone would take care of them soon. Surely after such a stunning win they could afford some new decorations.

“Harry?”

With a start, Harry whirled around and found himself face-to-face with the Puddlemere United Captain and, if one was being entirely honest, the reason the team was doing so well: Oliver Wood.

“O-Oliver. Hi.”

Harry raised one hand in an awkward wave before letting it fall back to the ground.

Oliver raised one eyebrow. Harry gulped as he tried to ignore the way the Muggle workout clothes Oliver had donned showed off his figure. Whether it was the difference of playing professional over school Quidditch or just a consequence of age, Oliver had come into his physique since he’d left school.

“You’re still here?” he asked Harry.

Harry kept his focus on Oliver’s eyes, willing himself not to look anywhere else for too long.

“I always wait,” he pointed out.

It was true. He’d come to every single game that season and those of half the season before, and he’d met Oliver after each one. Not for long. Their after match encounters were never more than quick greetings and (increasingly) congratulations. Often times, they’d talk a bit about the game; more recently, Oliver had begun asking about Harry’s work. They always parted ways within half an hour.

“Right,” Oliver said, readjusting the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “But I didn’t have two hours of interviews after those games.”

Harry tried to ignore the amusement in Oliver’s voice.

“Has it been two hours?” he asked, voice unnaturally high. “I hadn’t noticed. Time really does fly.”

Oliver hummed.

“I guess it does when you’re not answering the same question for the tenth time.”

Harry cringed.

“Yeah, I know what that’s like. They still do it to me sometimes. There are questions I’m getting that they first asked me when I was a kid.”

Oliver whistled. 

“I suppose that’s the price I pay for choosing to play professional—”

“Do you want to get coffee?”

Harry nearly slapped himself as soon as the question was out and Oliver was looking at him with a surprised expression. He recovered from his surprise rather quickly to grin at Harry instead, but by then, Harry couldn’t look the other man in the eyes.

“Now?” Oliver asked.

Harry shrugged, scuffing at the floor with his shoe.

“I was thinking more like tomorrow evening.”

“As friends?” Oliver asked slowly.

Harry shrugged again, partially turning his body away from Oliver in the process.

“Or maybe as a date?” he suggested.

When Oliver didn’t answer, he chanced a glance at the other man’s face and found himself locked in place by Oliver’s smiling eyes.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Harry.” He took a step closer and leaned in as if they were conspirators. “Besides, I just played the best game of my life, and I need a hell of a lot more time than fifteen minutes to recount it.”

Harry smiled.

“I look forward to hearing all about it.”


	3. Name Your Price (Blaise/Draco)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaise decides that studying is a waste of time. That doesn't mean he can't pass his exams with a little help from Draco. Blaise/Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Draco - Slash September  
> exam
> 
> I want to go ahead and warn for dubious consent here. Nothing actually happens in the story itself, and I've done my best to imply that anything more that happens in the future will be consensual. However, in my mind, Draco and Blaise are both characters who want to be in control, so there's something of a power struggle happening here that I wouldn't necessarily label as healthy.

Draco blinked to clear the fatigue from his brain. One could only focus on Ancient Runes notes for so long, and he was stretching himself to his limits. He scowled at the runes he’d copied from his book onto his parchment, wishing he could make sense of them with ease.

He pressed his forehead into his hands, willing the less helpful thoughts that kept appearing to go away. It didn’t work. He was too aware of the others in the common room, of Blaise across from him at the table.

Suddenly, Blaise’s notes caught fire. Draco gaped as the notes burnt to ash.

“They were exhausting to look at,” Blaise said as if that explained everything.

He stowed his wand in his pocket and stretched his arms over his head as Draco stared at the charred spot left on the tabletop.

“Are you insane?” he asked. “Do you not care about your future?”

Blaise shrugged, a smirk gracing his lips that Draco tried his best to ignore.

“I’ve decided studying isn’t worth it,” he said. “It’s too exhausting.”

When Draco’s shock didn’t subside, Blaise laughed.

“Your family has more connections than mine, Draco. Surely you don’t think some stupid Ancient Runes score will mean anything in the long run.”

Draco shifted in his seat. He’d only been focused on beating Granger and not humiliating his parents. What his score would mean after Hogwarts hadn’t been on his mind much.

“Are you going to let a Mudblood beat you?” he asked instead, pushing thoughts of a post-Hogwarts future from his mind.

“There are plenty of ways to get a good score on exams besides studying.”

Draco glanced around the common room to see if anyone was close enough to hear them. They weren’t.

He wasn’t morally opposed to Blaise’s idea, but it never would do to have rumors spread of the Malfoy heir resorting to such measures.

He leaned in close.

“What do you plan to do?”

Blaise motioned towards Draco’s notes.

“I was thinking you’d be a big help,” he said.

Draco felt familiar stirrings deep in his abdomen that he always had to ignore around Blaise. He took a deep breath, rolling his eyes to feign annoyance.

“A Malfoy would never let a Zabini cheat off them. I’m not someone you can use for your own benefit.”

Blaise’s smirk didn’t lessen. He leaned over the table, and Draco forced himself to remain as he was. He tucked his hands between his thighs to hide the way they trembled.

Blaise had captivating eyes. Draco had never been disarmed by a look the way he was Blaise’s. For the first several years of Hogwarts, he had kept away from the other boy out of fear that Blaise would gain too much influence over him, but that had been a failure.

“What’s the harm?”

There was a greater fear in Draco’s mind than the cheating. It was the fear that Blaise understood his thoughts far better than Draco wanted him to. Draco squeezed his hands together to ward off his anxiety. He refused to look away from Blaise’s eyes.

“What if I feed you the wrong answers on purpose?” he asked. “What then?”

Blaise shrugged.

“My future is in your hands, Draco. You enjoy that, don’t you?”

Draco had to remind himself that Blaise was taunting him, not flirting. No matter how much Draco wished for the latter.

“If that’s the case, I should get something in return,” Draco said.

Blaise’s smirk widened. He somehow leaned closer despite the table between them.

“Name your price,” he said. “I’m willing to pay it. Anything you want.”

Draco’s breath caught in his throat. There was no mistaking the way Blaise’s eyes travelled down his body. Heat spread from his abdomen out to his limbs, overtaking him.

“You don’t want to say that,” Draco said, voice trembling in spite of himself. “You really don’t.”

Blaise didn’t say anything as he stood from the table and walked around it as if heading for their dormitory. He stopped by Draco’s chair and touched his spine just below his neck, making flames erupt along Draco’s skin despite the clothing that acted as a barrier. He leaned in close to whisper in Draco’s ear.

“Do I? Think long and hard about what you want, Draco. Chances are, I’ll be more than happy to give it to you. If not, I'll be sure to let you know.”

He disappeared, leaving Draco staring down at notes that made even less sense than they had minutes before.


	4. Not an Experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville wakes up between Dean and Seamus, feeling content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Neville - Slash September  
> experiment

Neville rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Turning his head to one side and then the other, he observed both of his boyfriends for a time, never able to look at either of them long enough. He couldn’t contain his smile when he thought of how lucky to have them beside him.

Before their relationship had gone beyond friendship, Dean and Seamus had felt impenetrable. Neville had watched their relationship develop with increasing jealousy, but he hadn’t been able to discern who he was jealous of. Realizing it was both of them had helped him make sense of his feelings, but it hadn’t solved many of his problems. The largest of which being that he was in love with two boys who were madly in love with each other.

His smile widened as Dean began to stir. He craned his neck to look at him, one of his arms still pinned under Seamus’ shoulders, which wasn’t going to be fun once he could move it again.

“Good morning,” Neville whispered as Dean’s eyes fluttered open.

Dean smiled.

“Good morning,” he mumbled in response.

He leaned over to kiss Neville, and Neville did his best to return the kiss despite the awkward position it forced his neck into. Dean realized that Neville couldn’t move and pushed himself onto his elbow, grinning when he saw the way Seamus had smothered his face in Neville’s shoulder.

A long time ago, Neville had been horribly jealous when one of them looked at the other like that. His insecurities about being nothing more than an experiment would overwhelm him. He’d been certain they were going to leave him to return to their perfect life of just the two of them eventually.

That had never happened, and Neville had finally been assured that it never would.

There were only so many times Dean and Seamus could look at him with love in their eyes before he realized that they cared for him as much as they cared for each other. The realization had been invigorating.

“We should wake him up,” Dean said, struggling to hold back laughter.

Neville shook his head.

“Let him sleep a little longer.”

He reached up to brush hair from Seamus’ eyes with his free arm.

“You’re going to be awfully sore,” Dean said, raising one eyebrow.

Neville hummed in agreement, but he still didn’t let Dean wake Seamus.

“It’s Saturday,” he said. “I have plenty of time to be sore before Monday.”

Dean laughed and leaned over to kiss him again. Their giggling was what roused Seamus minutes later, but luckily, Dean and Seamus were as content to remain in bed as Neville was.


	5. Stay Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is facing off against two Death Eaters during the Battle of Hogwarts when Seamus appears. They haven't had a chance to talk since Dean disappeared months earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (genre) adventure  
> Dean Thomas - Slash September  
> (object) desk

Spells flew over Dean’s head in rapid succession. He swore to himself as he crouched behind the desk he’d tipped over onto its side. He looked behind him, trying to find a way out of the classroom without going around the two Death Eaters, but they’d boxed him inside and had no intention of leaving the door unguarded.

He tried to remember how he’d come to be trapped in the room in the first place, but there had been—was—too much happening to recall what had spurred him to rush into the classroom to look for cover.

Peeking over the desk with wand in hand, he prepared to fire a spell, but catching sight of a new figure in the doorway, he froze.

“Stupify!”

One of the Death Eaters fell to the ground, and the other spun around to find Seamus with his wand pointed at his chest.

Dean’s heart pounded as he took in the cuts that littered Seamus’ skin, his busted lip, the way he was leaning to one side as if it was the only way he could stand. At least he was alive. Dean had been trying not to think of the other possibility.

The Death Eater raised his wand, and Dean took the opportunity to aim, shooting a stunning spell at the man’s back. He fell on top of his friend. They’d both be sore when they woke, but hopefully, they’d have greater concerns than physical discomfort.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Seamus shouted as he rushed forward and tugged Dean out from behind the desk. “Off by yourself! Letting yourself get cornered! You could’ve bloody died!”

“But I’m not dead,” Dean pointed out, stunned by Seamus’ sudden presence.

Seamus swore under his breath before pulling Dean close. Sounds of battle echoed down the halls, but Dean let himself soak in Seamus’ presence. When his best friend spoke, they were pressed together tightly enough for Dean to feel the words as much as he could hear them.

“We haven’t talked about what happened before you disappeared last summer.”

“Later,” Dean said, pressing his cheek into Seamus’ shoulder. “Once the fighting is over.”

Seamus pulled away just far enough to look at Dean with wide eyes.

“Like hell we’re waiting that long,” he muttered before surging forward and capturing Dean’s lips with his own.

Dean kissed him back, almost forgetting the battle raging around them. He’d been dreaming of Seamus’ lips for years, but the dreams had taken on a greater potency once he’d learned what they really felt like. Even his recent dreams didn’t compare to reality.

His hands gathered the folds of Seamus’ robes, pulling him closer, but all too soon, Seamus pulled away. He gave a short laugh at Dean’s pout, giving him one more quick kiss before he removed his arms from Dean’s waist and took his hand instead.

“There _is_ a battle going on,” he said. “This time, stay close to me.”

His tone left little room for argument, but Dean had no desire to leave his side anyway. He hurried after Seamus, quickly forcing the fog that the kiss had created from his mind. He would do everything in his power to make sure there was another in their future.


	6. No More Talk of Ruining Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy rushed to his first date with Henry—his first date _ever_ —still in his school uniform. That's only the first of many ways he could screw the whole thing up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> setting - Hogsmeade  
> Teddy Lupin - Slash September  
> object - school tie

Teddy tugged at his tie, loosening it around his neck. It definitely hadn’t been his intention to wear his school uniform on his first date with Henry. He’d had a whole outfit picked out, one he’d obsessed over for days, but Desiree, their Head Girl, had called a last minute prefect meeting that morning. It had run long, and there Teddy was, anxious and looking the same as always in his school uniform, including a tie that was strangling him no matter how many times he loosened it.

He sure as hell hoped Henry didn’t doubt his interest because he hadn’t worn something nicer.

His fingers tapped against the table to a tune that he was sure was from a song he couldn’t place. He almost got up to order drinks to give himself something to do, but he stopped himself, figuring that was something he should wait to do when Henry arrived. What if he ordered Henry butterbeer, but he didn’t like butterbeer? Teddy thought he probably did, but there was no way to be sure without asking him. So he sat at the table and didn’t order drinks.

When Henry entered the pub, Teddy was already staring at the door. He noted how flushed Henry’s cheeks were from the cold and that it contrasted beautifully with his brown skin. Teddy stood on shaking legs as Henry approached, but he didn’t know how to greet him. 

They couldn’t hug. That was too intimate, but shaking hands was stiff and formal. How did you greet someone on a first date? Teddy had no idea. No one had bothered to teach him those kinds of things.

If Henry noticed his indecision, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Sorry I’m a couple minutes late,” he said, unwinding his scarf from around his neck. “My friends were being idiots and not letting me leave.”

“It’s fine,” Teddy said with a smile as they both sat at the table.

It was fine, but Teddy made a mental note not to tell Henry about how he’d run the entire way to the pub from the classroom where they’d held the prefect meeting. The last thing he wanted was to appear too enthusiastic.

“Let me get drinks,” he declared.

Henry nodded and asked for butterbeer. Teddy cursed himself as he headed for the bar, sure that he should have ordered before Henry arrived. He always could have gone back if Henry had wanted something else.

Having gotten the drinks, he balanced them carefully in his hands, more aware than ever of his clumsiness. He watched the liquid as it sloshed around, doing his best to keep it from spilling. In the process, he didn’t notice the stray handbag sticking out from the table next to theirs.

Both butterbeers sloshed over the sides of the glasses and onto the floor. Teddy swore was he stared at the huge, sticky mess he’d made.

Henry was on is feet in less than a second, wand out to siphon up the liquid. Teddy’s cheeks flamed in embarrassment as he sat their ruined drinks, each only half full, on the table.

“I’m so sorry.”

Henry laughed.

“It’s fine,” he said. “We can always order more. It’s not a big deal.”

Teddy took a deep breath and tried to accept Henry’s words as the truth.

“I just don’t want to ruin anything,” he admitted, cheeks on fire. “First I wind up in my uniform because of an unexpected prefect meeting.” He tugged at his tie again. “Now I spill our drinks all over the floor.”

He looked down at the table, only for Henry to laugh.

“And I was late because of my stupid friends,” Henry pointed out. “I was worried I might have ruined it too. How about we consider it even instead?”

He held out his hand, and Teddy took it with a grin, shaking on it.

“Now, no more talk about spilt butterbeer,” Henry declared. “Did you listen to the last Harpies game on the wireless?”


	7. How Can I Not?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is Blaise's favorite model.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> (object) coloured pencils  
> Blaise Zabini - Slash September

Blaise tossed his Potions textbook to the side with a sigh. He'd been propped up on pillows studying for an hour, and he needed a break.

His eyes quickly found Draco, who was sitting on his bed in a similar position but with a novel cracked open instead of a textbook. Blaise grinned at the sight. Draco was hopelessly fond of a mystery series that most witches and wizards stopped reading by their third or fourth year of school. He only read the books when no one else was around, and they might have been the reason Blaise and Draco had admitted their feelings for each other in the first place.

When Blaise had discovered Draco hiding behind the hangings of his bed with one of the books, he'd teased him endlessly for being a bookworm, but when he'd kept Draco's secret safe, it had led to an intimacy between the two boys that neither had anticipated.

Blaise watched Draco's eyes widen at what must have been a particularly exciting passage. He moved the book closer to his face as if that would make the resolution come faster.

Blaise couldn't believe there had been a time when he'd been able to look at Draco without marveling at his beauty.

Remaining as quiet as possible, he reached for the Muggle paper and coloured pencils he kept stashed in his bedside drawer. That had been the secret that led to their first kiss: Blaise liked to draw, and he often used Muggle writing instruments to do so.

He had never expected for Draco to uncover the drawings of him, and though that had led to a surprisingly wonderful outcome, he had grown far more careful since.

Over the past year, it had become harder to draw Draco because of his aversion to being depicted in art.

At the moment, Draco was engrossed in his book to the point that Blaise was able to make something that was noticeably Draco before he was caught. Draco froze, eyes narrowing, and Blaise could only smirk as Draco lunged off his bed towards him.

He shielded the paper from Draco's grasp.

"How can I not draw you when you look precious getting caught up in your books like that?" he asked, laughing.

Draco kept leaning over him, almost snatching the paper before Blaise moved it away again.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Zabini. Give me the drawing."

With a sigh, Blaise did as requested. Instead of destroying it right away, Draco analyzed his drawn features with a frown. Blaise stood and pressed a kiss to his cheek before whispering against his skin, "It's one of my best drawings. You always are."

Draco's cheeks reddened, and Blaise pulled away with a satisfied smirk, snaking his arms around Draco's waist.

"Please let me keep it. No one will see it but the two of us."

Groaning, Draco turned in Blaise's embrace and buried his face in the crook of his neck.

"No one sees it but us," he mumbled into Blaise's shirt.

Blaise laughed in satisfaction, tugging Draco closer.


	8. Being Right (Rowena Ravenclaw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowena doesn't relish being right when it came to Salazar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Rowena Ravenclaw  
> (word) notice

Rowena is the first to notice, though she can’t understand how Helga and Godric have failed to.

For years, the four of them have taken dinner together, keen to share how their days have gone. At first, it was a way to recoup and make sure their plans for a wizarding school were unfolding as intended. Eventually, they had become more about sharing the most amusing stories their students had provided them with in that day’s classes.

One day, Salazar doesn’t come to dinner. There’s no explanation; he just never appears.

Helga and Godric shrug it off, speculating that he has other things to do. Rowena can’t accept their excuses, sure there is something far more sinister afoot. It’s becoming a theme with Salazar, and it makes her nervous.

“How do you not notice?” she asks Helga one day as they’re having tea in her office.

Helga shrugs as she raises her cup to her lips.

“He’s only sulking,” she says with a grin. “It’s what Salazar does, isn’t it? I’m not denying that he’s angry at us for letting Muggleborns into the school, but he’ll move passed it. If we give him some space, he’ll come around.”

Rowena tries to believe Helga’s assurances, but something about Salazar’s demeanor doesn’t sit right with her. Over the years, she’s learned to trust her instincts, and though Helga is right that Salazar has always pouted about not getting his way, this is different. They hardly see him over the next year. He disappears into parts of the castle where no one can find.

Helga and Godric say he’s probably in his rooms. Rowena is sure he’s been keeping secrets since the castle was being built, but she can’t confront him about it. Not when she thinks Godric and Helga might stand up for him and say she’s overreacting.

The day comes when he attacks Helga without a second thought. Rowena intercepts the spell—having expected it—moments before Godric springs into action. None of Salazar’s friends can deny the truth any longer.

Rowena doesn’t relish being right. Not this time. Not until the day she dies.


	9. Take My Hand (Lavender/Parvati)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavender wants to take Parvati fishing, but things don't go as planned.

Lavender held out her arms to present the canoe she’d taken from the boathouse and tied to the deck earlier. Parvati frowned and raised an eyebrow at it.

“Are you sure that thing is safe?” she asked.

“Of course,” Lavender said, waving off her best friend’s concern. “I think there are charms on it to keep it afloat, and it may be old, but there aren’t any holes in it or anything. I checked.”

She leant over to pull out the items she’d stored inside when she’d gotten it out.

“And,” she said, presenting the box she’d packed to Parvati, “I’ve got everything we need to fish too. There wasn’t anything in the boathouse, but it was easy enough to get poles, bait, and such by owl order. Maybe I’ll leave them here for future students when we’re done. I don’t know why more people haven’t gone fishing down here.”

Parvati snorted.

“Did you stop to consider that it’s for the reasons I told you when you first suggested doing it? There is nothing that we want to catch in that lake.”

“How can you be sure of that if we’ve never tried before?”

“You think anything good survives in that lake with a giant squid around?”

“Well, the squid has to eat something every day, right? That means its food source is still around.”

Her words did nothing to prevent Parvati from looking at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“And why would we want to compete with the giant squid for its food?”

“Relax,” Lavender said, waving around a hand and climbing into the canoe. “The squid isn’t actually dangerous. Have you ever heard of it harming a student? I think we’re safe.”

“Most people aren’t stupid enough to go in the lake,” Parvati muttered, but despite her words, she approached the canoe.

Lavender held out her hand, trying not to let it shake, and Parvati took it, carefully stepping into the boat and dropping onto the seat.

“Oh,” she said, hands shooting out to grip either side of the canoe. “It wobbles. I don’t like this.”

“That’s what happens when things float on water,” Lavender said. “But don’t worry. I used a charm that my dad used when I was little and we went fishing together. It would take a lot to tip over this canoe.”

Parvati nodded but couldn’t stop looking at the water as if she’d fall into it at any moment.

Lavender didn’t pay her friend’s fears much mind as she rowed towards a shallow edge of the lake, hoping that staying close to shore would assuage Parvati’s fears.

Once they reached what seemed to be a good spot, Lavender stored the oars at their feet and pulled out the fishing rods instead. She showed Parvati, who was still looking at the rods as if they weren’t trustworthy, how to attach the hooks and the bait.

Parvati began giggling as Lavender taught her how to cast the line, both of them letting their touches linger longer than necessary.

“Do we really just sit here?” Parvati asked once their lines had been out for a whole three minutes. “The fish actually bite the bait? Just like that?”

“If we’re lucky,” Lavender said.

Truth be told, she wasn’t sure what kinds of fish were in the Black Lake. She was more prepared for total failure than she was success, but she didn’t share that with Parvati. It had been hard enough to convince her to come.

They sat together for another minute, enjoying the companionable silence, before Parvati stiffened.

“Oh, no. Lavender!”

Lavender didn’t have time to process what was happening before the entire canoe shifted violently with the water. Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening a split second before it did. The canoe flipped over, sending the girls and their fishing gear into the water.

Once she was in the lake, Lavender felt the squid’s presence. Her entire body felt cold, both from the water and from her proximity to the giant creature. She heard Parvati sputtering beside her.

“Come on,” Lavender urged, swimming towards the edge of the lake.

The entire way there, she could hear Parvati’s panicked strokes behind her. She made it out first and tugged Parvati onto shore, not dropping the other girl’s hand once she was on land.

“I’m so sorry,” Lavender said, wrapping both of her hands around Parvati’s. “I didn’t think that would happen.”

Parvati shook her head, but she was breathing too heavily to say anything.

Tugging her wand out of an interior pocket of her robes, Lavender dried both of them off. It didn’t get rid of the goosebumps that had erupted across Parvati’s skin.

“I really am sorry,” Lavender said.

“It’s fine,” Parvati said through her shivers.

She gave Lavender’s hand a squeeze to emphasize her words, which alerted Lavender to the fact that she hadn’t dropped the other girl’s hand. She tried to let go, but Parvati held on, giving her a small, hesitant smile. Lavender smiled back, entwining their fingers together. She felt warmth settle in her stomach that counteracted the chill from the water.

Parvati stepped in close, and Lavender relished what she could feel of the other girl’s body heat.

“Can we go back up to the castle,” Parvati asked, “and agree to never go into the Black Lake again? In a canoe or otherwise?”

Lavender nodded.

“I’ve been persuaded.”

The girls smiled at each other and began their trek back up to the castle, fishing gear forgotten at the bottom of the lake as they both let their thoughts be consumed by their linked hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> include a meaningful moment where the couple holds hands  
> (action) fishing  
> (word) goosebumps


	10. Not Going Anywhere (Cho/Padma)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cho's had some bad experiences with relationships. She's worried Padma will be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Graphic](https://www.flickr.com/photos/145600588@N03/43630486260/in/album-72157693375669554/) by [Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2476490/).

Sounds of forks clinking against plates and quiet conversation could be heard throughout Madam Puddifoot’s as Cho stared at her half eaten slice of chocolate cake, wanting to finish it but not having the appetite to do so. She’d been feeling off all day, and the fact that Padma knew that made her feel worse about it.

“Talk to me.”

Cho looked into Padma’s eyes, her heart skipping a beat at the look on her girlfriend’s face.

“About what?” she asked, taking another bite of cake to feign innocence. “Everything’s fine.”

Padma raised an eyebrow, but Cho didn’t look at her as she chewed.

“Cho, really,” Padma pressed. “You’ve been acting strange all day, and Madam Puddifoot’s is your favourite tea shop ever. If that cake isn’t cheering you up, there’s a major problem.”

Cho sat her fork down with a sigh.

“We’ve been seeing each other for a few months,” she said slowly.

Padma’s brow creased.

“Is that the problem?”

“No,” Cho rushed to assure her girlfriend. “Not exactly. It’s just that every relationship I’ve been in has imploded horribly, and I’m waiting for it to happen again. The longer this goes on, the more inevitable it feels.”

Padma looked at her a second before sighing. She reached across the table to grip Cho’s hand.

“You’ve only had two relationships, and we’ve already established that Harry Potter is a massive jerk. I’m not going to do something stupid that breaks your heart. Trust me.”

“I’m trying,” Cho said softly, squeezing Padma’s hand. “I really am.”

Padma’s smile was gentle.

“And I’m thankful for that.”

Cho blushed as Padma leaned over the table to place a kiss on her cheek.

“Let me make you a promise,” Padma said. “If a year from now we’re still together, which I fully plan to be, we’ll come here again, sit at this exact table, and have chocolate cake. Maybe then you’ll believe that I’m not going anywhere.”

Cho gave a shy nod of her head, hoping she’d see that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bit of a technology nightmare this week that's still playing out, and even though it wasn't my computer, I felt pretty unenthusiastic about writing for a few days. I still don't know how I feel about this, but I'm going to go ahead and post it anyway. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Prompts:  
> (setting) Hogsmeade  
> (food/object) chocolate cake


	11. Miss You Already (Lorcan/James Sirius)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorcan is excited to be living in Australia but sad to have left James behind in England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The typos in James' text messages are purposeful.

Lorcan pressed back into the couch, looking around his new flat with a smile. It felt good to have a place that was his own, and knowing that he was in Australia made it better. There was something about making it on his own far from home, his parents, and his brother that made him feel like he could conquer the world. If he could do this, he could do anything.

He pulled out the Muggle phone he’d invested in before leaving. It was faster than an owl, and he was happy that his father had suggested it, even if his boyfriend was less than enthusiastic about learning how to use one.

Snapping a photo of the bright room he’d spent hours arranging, Lorcan sent the picture off to James with the caption: _It’s finally done, but I wish the final touch was you. :(_

He was disappointed when a response didn’t immediately appear, but he also wasn’t surprised. James had promised to keep his phone on him at all times, but he’d been struggling with it when Lorcan left. It was going to take him a while to be capable of responding with any speed.

The doorbell rang, making Lorcan jump. It was the first time he’d heard it, and he wasn’t used to the Muggle way of being alerted to guests. He didn’t like it. Perhaps James was right, and he should have chosen a wizarding neighborhood to live in, but choosing a Muggle one had felt like even more of an adventure, a way to live up to being a Gryffindor.

He was thrilled with the idea of meeting someone new. Having only been in Brisbane for a day, the people he’d met was limited to his landlord and a few passersby on the street. When he opened the door, he was faced with a smiling woman a few years older than he was. Her light blonde hair reminded him of his mother, but her eyes were a dark brown instead of blue, and he could tell right away that she didn’t the same capacity for thinking outside the box.

“Hello,” she said, sticking out her hand.

Lorcan shook it with a grin, echoing her greeting.

“I heard someone new had moved in and wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. I’m Sarah,” she said.

“Oh, thanks. I really appreciate it. I’m Lorcan.”

Her grin widened when she caught onto his accent. 

“Are you British?” she asked.

“Yes,” Lorcan said uncertainly, suddenly self-conscious.

His brother had been teasing him for months about how many men and women would want to date him because of his accent, but that had mostly been to rile James up. Lorcan didn’t think it would be true, but the woman’s eyes lit up as if this new revelation thrilled her.

“Have you just moved to Australia?”

“Yes,” Lorcan replied with the same uncertainty.

“That’s great!” she exclaimed, bobbing on her toes and clapping her hands together. “I don’t know if you know anyone yet, but I’d love to show you around. If you need anything, let me know. I live in 142, right over there.”

She pointed at the door diagonal from his.

Lorcan nodded slowly, overwhelmed by how quickly she had been speaking.

“Thank you,” he said. “I really appreciate it. I don’t know anyone yet.”

Before she could say anything else, Lorcan’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out eagerly.

_It looks boring. You could have found a better place in London. Next to me. Or with me. But no. Australia had your dream job. You couldn’t have studied Billywigs in Britain. I’m still angry. ANd I still hate this phone. What is :(? Writing is easier. This sucks. Just like Australia._

Lorcan couldn’t help but smile.

_:( is a frowning face, James, and typing will get easier. Besides, you’ll be in Australia with me next year. <3 (That’s a heart.)_

He almost became lost in his own world as he typed his response, but as soon as he hit send, he remembered that Sarah was still standing there. He looked up sheepishly, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry. That was my boyfriend.”

He watched her closely at the word “boyfriend.” She shifted to her other foot and widened her grin. He could tell that she was consciously controlling her actions to make sure he knew she didn’t care. It was the best response he could hope for.

“I’ll let you go then,” she said. “But do let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course,” Lorcan said. “I’m sure I will. I don’t know where anything in this city is yet.”

She gave a short laugh at that.

“How about coffee tomorrow morning?” she offered. “I can show you a great cafe near here. I bet you’ll become a regular. Everyone in this building is.”

“Sounds great,” Lorcan said, fiddling with his phone in his hands as his mind remained half on a possible reply.

He waved goodbye before closing the door.

As soon as he was alone again, his phone buzzed.

_I know. I’m looking for a job. I swear. This time I’m not putting it of. I miss kissing you._

Lorcan’s smile widened, and he found himself holding his phone closer to his chest as if it would bring him closer to James as well.

_You just kissed me yesterday._

He sent a kissing face emoji along with the text, and laughed as he imagined James’ face as he tried to figure out how Lorcan had gotten a picture to go with the text. Maybe they couldn’t kiss, but the texting was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Write about someone meeting their new neighbors.  
> (word) bright


	12. New Friends

Most days, Luna’s cheerful nature was entirely genuine. She really did believe that most people were kind when it came down to it. When the other students laughed at her, she knew most of them just wanted to get along with the others. She hated that she was the fodder that allowed them to do that, but she was able to forgive them for it.

Most of the time.

Sometimes it became too much, especially when their taunts were about things she didn’t like about herself. Or when they stole something she cared about more than they realized.

Her mother’s favourite necklace was gone, and they’d laughed when she’d asked for it back. They didn’t know it had been her mother’s. They didn’t even know her mother was dead. She didn’t dare tell them, not when they were laughing at her, but she thought that, if she’d had the courage to say that much, they would have regretted their actions.

Sobbing, she leaned against one of the windows that lined the corridor, her hand pressed against her aching heart. The necklace was somewhere in the castle. She knew that much, and as long as that was true, she had hope of finding it. That was what prevented her from collapsing to the ground in despair.

“Is that necklace special?”

Luna jumped, not having heard footsteps. Her eyes widened when she turned to see the Grey Lady hovering in front of her, lips turned down in a frown. Despite the Grey Lady being the Ravenclaw ghost, Luna had never spoken to her. No one she knew of had gotten the Grey Lady to speak, though it was common for first years to try. The other houses had far chattier ghosts.

“Pardon?” Luna asked, not able to remember what question she’d been asked.

“I saw the other students take your necklace,” the Grey Lady said. “The design hinted that it was older than you are, and now you’re crying. Was it important?”

“Yes,” Luna replied, voice trembling. “It belonged to my mother.”

The Grey Lady’s frown deepened at her words, and there was a split second where Luna thought she might have offended the ghost without knowing how. After a moment, however, the Grey Lady gave a short nod.

“Fortunately, I saw where they took it. Follow me.”

She floated away before Luna could process what had happened. She scrambled after the ghost, wiping hastily at her eyes as she went. Her heart hammered in her chest at the thought of having the necklace back safe and sound.

“What’s your name?” Luna asked as they went. “Surely you weren’t born as the Grey Lady.”

The ghost almost appeared amused as she glanced at Luna over her shoulder.

“No, but that’s what I am now.”

Luna knew better than to push farther. Still, she’d wanted to speak to the Grey Lady since her first day at Hogwarts. Now that the woman was actually helping her, Luna’s curiosity couldn’t help but get the better of her.

“Do you know about Crumple Horned Snorkacks?”

The Grey Lady gave her a confused look.

“No,” she said slowly. “Is that one of those bands that I sometimes hear students listening to?”

Luna giggled.

“No, but it would make a wonderful band name.”

The Grey Lady gave her a small, if confused smile before coming to a stop in front of an abandoned classroom.

“It’s in here,” she said. “They placed it inside one of the desks. I trust that you can find it.”

She made to float away, but Luna stopped her.

“Wait. Can we talk again someday soon?”

The Grey Lady raised one eyebrow, bobbing up and down as she hovered. It took her a long time to answer the question.

“We’ll see,” she said, floating through a wall before Luna could question her further. 

Luna smiled to herself as she went to retrieve her necklace. She thought she might have just made a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Luna Lovegood  
> Helena Ravenclaw  
> write about a friendship forming under unusual circumstances


	13. Monsters in the Cupboard (Harry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's scared of the monsters in the dark, but he's also scared of his aunt and uncle.

Something flickered in the pitch blackness of the cupboard, and Harry cowered further into the sheets.

When Dudley had first raised the possibility that the Boogie Man was lurking in Harry’s cupboard, Harry had believed it was nothing more than another one of Dudley’s lies. Dudley always lied, and his favourite lies were ones that upset Harry. It had seemed most likely that this was just another one of those.

Yet when Harry found himself in complete darkness, it was much harder for him to remember how often Dudley lied. Shadows danced across the wall, and they certainly didn’t feel like Harry’s imagination. They felt very real, and even if they weren’t, Harry’s heart raced at the thought of finding out for sure when they attacked him.

The rest of the house was sleeping soundly, so Harry did his best to pull through. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to sleep, but he’d open them less than a minute later, needing to see if anything had finally appeared from the shadows. It never had, but that didn’t make closing his eyes easier.

His fear steadily increased over the twenty minutes he had laid in the cupboard until he couldn’t take it anymore. He threw off his blanket and scrambled out of the cupboard. The downstairs hallway was a little brighter than the cupboard had been, but that only allowed the shadows to flourish more freely.

Harry hurried up the stairs, convinced that the monsters might be chasing him.

On his way up, his thoughts were only on a need to escape, but when he came to a stop in front of his aunt and uncle’s door, his heart pounded for a different reason. He knew what he was about to do could potentially anger them, which could be just as frightening as the monsters were. 

Several months ago, he had wet the bed, and when he’d told them, he’d been punished for waking them up. When he’d wet the bed several weeks later, he’d known better, stripping off his sheets by himself, changing his clothes, and going back to sleep without creating a fuss. He hadn’t even mentioned it to his aunt or uncle when he had put the soiled sheets in the washing machine the next day.

If he woke them up with tales of a monster, he could already picture their anger. His uncle didn’t like things like that. Even when Harry only pretended that things were real, Uncle Vernon got angry. If he told his uncle that he really believed there was a monster, he would be punished, just like he had been when he’d admitted to seeing some strange creatures in the back garden whom Uncle Vernon insisted didn’t exist.

Even though he’d insisted on their imaginariness, Uncle Vernon had searched the garden thoroughly after Harry’s confession. Harry had seen him through the window when he was supposed to be dusting the sitting room. Maybe a punishment was worth it if Uncle Vernon would at least check his cupboard from top to bottom.

Harry took a step away from the door.

Even if there was something in his cupboard, Uncle Vernon wouldn’t be the person to find it. Uncle Vernon was oblivious to most of the things Harry noticed. The monster would be no different.

Shivering, Harry kept his head down as he walked back to his cupboard. He tried to ignore the shadows, telling himself that nothing was really there. It was only more of Dudley’s lies. If there were any monsters, surely they’d go for Dudley first. That felt more fitting.

Burrowing back under his blanket, Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of the wonderful dreams he’d had. Ones of flying motorbikes and wonderful things that couldn’t be explained by his aunt and uncle. Finally, he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> write about a child afraid of the Boogie Man


	14. Balloon Overload (Percy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Molly's first birthday since Percy and Audrey's divorce, and Percy is determined to make it perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (colour) maroon  
> (object) balloon  
> (dialogue) "I feel like punching myself in the face." // "I can help with that."

Percy had discovered that nothing could make you realize your inadequacies as a father quite like divorce could. He and Audrey were on good terms, but with the girls going back and forth between houses, Percy felt a pressing need for his house to be just as nice of a place to be as the one the girls had lived in their entire life. If he messed up, they might want to stay with Audrey and never come visit him.

In the days leading up to Lucy’s birthdayーthe first for either of the girls since Percy had moved outーhe had spent all of his free time searching for ways to make it her best birthday in memory.

One of his first and seemingly most simple ideas was blowing up lots of balloons. Lucy loved them, and they’d been a part of each of her birthdays since her first. This year, though, he was determined to one up the past.

He’d purchased every maroon balloon the store in Diagon Alley had possessed. 

That number had been exactly one hundred, and the shopkeeper had been hesitant to fulfill his request, as if Percy could start a war with one hundred balloons at his disposal. 

It was only after all one hundred balloons were blown up and Percy needed to use the restroom that he realized he had made a mistake.

There was a knock on his apartment door, and Percy swore under his breath. Navigating through the mess, he made it to the door and opened it without popping his fourth balloon of the last hour. Standing on the other side were Percy’s ex-wife and daughters, right on time.

Lucy and Molly let out cheers when they saw what awaited them, and they ran past him, offering no greetings, to frolic through the balloons. Percy cringed, knowing the next pop was only a short time away.

He tried to let their laughter calm him, but the stricken look on his ex-wife’s face heightened his anxiety.

“Is every room like this?” she asked, hesitating before taking a small step inside the door.

“Only this room and the kitchen,” he said sheepishly.

Audrey’s frown deepened.

“That’s the entire flat except the bedrooms and bathroom.”

Percy could only shrug in response.

A balloon popped, making both adults jump as the girls cheered.

“Molly,” Audrey warned, moving further into the apartment to scold their oldest daughter.

She stepped on a balloon in the process, popping it, and froze, turning slowly to glare at Percy, who smiled back as brightly as he could manage as fear took over his body.

* * *

They had cake together as a family, though a family far different than the one they had been when Percy and Audrey were married, and it was nice. As long as they stayed at the table, they could forget that they were sitting among a sea of balloons.

After the dishes were washed, Audrey hugged the girls goodbye, and Percy walked her to the door. As she turned to face him and say her goodbyes, one of the girls popped a balloon. They’d become so desensitized that no one reacted except for the girls giggling together.

“Was it worth it?” Audrey asked him with a sharp glint in her eye.

“I feel like punching myself in the face,” Percy replied flatly, already dreading the constant balloon popping that would occur until the last balloon was gone.

“I can help with that.”

The small smile on Audrey’s face revealed her amusement, and Percy grinned back. It was nice having her as a co-parent and friend. Towards the end of their marriage, when they were still living together, his unfortunate decision-making would have led to an argument, but as it was, they could share in the amusement before she left him to deal with the consequences himself.

“Don’t let them stay up too late,” Audrey said, glancing at her watch.

“Eight o’clock sharp,” Percy promised with a quick nod of the head.

Audrey stepped forward to wrap him in a hug, patting his back as she pulled away.

“Your intentions were good, Percy. Try to remember that when they pop the fiftieth balloon.”

“Thanks,” he said with a laugh, waving as he shut the door behind her.


	15. Swaddle Your Hopes, Keep Them Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene and Dylan Potter have been trying to have a baby for years, and Irene is growing desperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> not being able to have a baby  
> (colour) dark purple  
> (dialogue) "Fuck it. We're going to die anyway."

Irene wasn’t sure why she went to the Healers alone when Dylan had been more than willing to come with her except for the fact that she was prepared to be disappointed. 

For nearly two decades, she and her husband had been trying to have a baby, and for nearly two decades, they’d been unsuccessful. At first, she hadn’t thought much of it. They were both busy with work, and she knew they could have put more effort into trying than they did. After a while, though, she knew something was wrong, and considering her age, she knew she had limited time in which to discover a solution.

Healer Lubach looked at her clipboard more than she looked at Irene as she went over the results of the various tests the Healers had been put Irene through. Irene focused on her breathing to keep herself calm. The room around her was the sterile white she’d come to associate with St Mungo’s since her father first fell ill decades earlier, and she’d been sitting in the room for hours. She was itching to move, even if it was just walking across the room.

“Mrs. Potter,” Healer Lubach began, making Irene’s heart race, “there’s nothing abnormal about these tests for someone of your age. Without running tests on your husband, I can’t know anything about his fertility, but I suspect your struggles are primarily because of your age. Unfortunately, as an older woman, it’s naturally going to be more difficult for you to get pregnant. My suggestion for a first step is potions that would help boost your and your husband’s fertility.”

Irene’s heart soared at the thought of a magical solution.

“But they’re not a guarantee of anything,” Lubach stressed, keeping her eyes trained on Irene for longer than she had at any other point since entering the room. “These potions can’t make you pregnant on their own, only encourage it. If these don’t work, we can look for any larger problems in your husband, but I still want to make you fully aware that you may never have a child.”

“I understand,” Irene said, her voice shaking despite how strong she tried to appear.

“Mrs. Potter.”

The sharpness in Lubach’s voice startled Irene, making her straighten her posture.

“I won’t mince words with you. You’re not young anymore. I feel that it would be unprofessional of me not to warn you of the potential risks if you do get pregnant. Even if the potions work, you are likely to have a difficult journey ahead.”

“Fuck it,” Irene said before she could stop herself. “We’re going to die anyway. The possibility of it isn’t going to stop me.”

* * *

Irene went to Diagon Alley after her appointment, needing to release some of the energy buzzing through her veins. She understood that the potion wouldn’t be a guarantee, but it was the most hope she’d had in years. She couldn’t help but cling to the possibility that it would work.

Though she knew it was a terrible idea, she found herself heading for the infant section of the shop. The clerk smiled at her and asked if she needed anything. Irene wondered what the clerk thought. Perhaps she’d been mistaken for a grandmother shopping for her grandchild. She felt old enough to qualify.

Her eyes landed on a dark purple blanket, and she fell in love immediately.

It was easy to imagine wrapping her baby in the plush fabric and holding them close to her body, keeping them warm and safe. It was all she wanted in the world, and suddenly, the blanket felt like a crucial piece of the puzzle.

She kept her head down as she purchased it, as if it were a black market transaction.

When she got home, she shoved the blanket into a dark corner of the closet where things often disappeared. She refused tell even Dylan what she’d done, too aware of the embarrassment it could cause in the end.

* * *

It took several months, but on her fifth trip back to the Healers, she was told she was pregnant. She cried uncontrollably as her husband held her close.

She listened to the Healers’ warnings that she was only at the beginning of a long journey. Though she took them seriously, she felt like she was flying higher than she had been in years as she enjoyed the milestones she’d dreamed of for so long.

When James was born, she cried as she wrapped him in his soft, dark purple blanket.


	16. The Spark (Tonks)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonks receives her first wand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Nymphadora Tonks  
> Garrick Ollivander

Tonks stares around the wand shop with wide eyes as her parents usher her inside. She’s been waiting eleven years to buy her wand, and she can’t believe the day has finally come. Her palms are sweaty as she rubs them against her robes. There’s a fear in her mind that she’ll somehow screw up and not be able to find a wand, forcing her to go to Hogwarts wandless.

She’s never heard of it happening, but perhaps she’ll be the first. They won’t know what to do with her; completing coursework will be all but impossible.

Ollivander appears behind the counter and gives them a small tilt of his head in acknowledgement. He looks down at Tonks as if he knows her, and she can’t stop herself from gasping loud enough for it to be heard throughout the shop.

“Hello, Miss Tonks,” Ollivander says with a small smile. “I thought it was about time that I’d be meeting you.”

Her eyes widen further, but when she looks back at her parents, neither of them are surprised by Ollivander’s greeting. Her father is even smiling, so Tonks steels herself and faces the wandmaker again, giving a nod of her head for reasons she’s unsure of.

Ollivander begins taking measurements, and Tonks lets him work without snapping at the way the measuring tape floats beside her as if it’s taunting her about her height. If Ollivander thinks she’s rude, maybe he’ll refuse to give her a wand, and she desperately needs one.

As soon as her measurements are done, she lets herself relax just a tad. Her eyes stay glued to the wandmaker as he moves deeper into the shop.

“Let’s see, let’s see,” Ollivander mutters to himself as he walks past the shelves of wands, scanning the boxes.

To Tonks, they only look like boxes, but Ollivander knows what wand each holds without looking at any labels. He pulls one box in particular off the shelf and pulls the lid off.

“Six and a half inches, holly, with a unicorn hair core,” he says as he approaches Tonks. “It’s not unlike your mother’s wand.”

Tonks looks up to see her mum smiling at the wand in question, and Tonks agrees that it looks similar in design to Andromeda’s wand. She reaches out a shaking hand to take the wand, only to have a cascade of boxes fly from the shelves the second her fingers graze the wood.

Ollivander snaps the wand back from her, placing it in its box and firmly returning the lid.

“Not that one then,” he declares, sticking the wand back on the shelf as if they were at a clothing store and Tonks had merely told him she’d like a differently coloured blouse. 

He hums to himself before pulling a different wand off the shelf.

“Ten inches,” he says. “Cedar and a phoenix feather core.”

This time, Tonks manages to wrap her hand around the wand and really grasp it before anything happens. Then, her father’s robes burst into flames, and Ted, cursing, jumps around until Andromeda douses the flames with her wand. Ollivander snatches the wand back again.

Tonks slumps as she watches him inspect the shelves. She’s becoming more certain than ever that they won’t discover a wand for her.

Ollivander comes back with another one, but Tonks frowns at the box. When she reaches out for the wand, she’s prepared for the worst, but a feeling of warmth radiates down her arm once it’s in her hand. She gasps, looking between her parents and Ollivander, who are all smiling at her.

“Another one of unicorn hair,” Ollivander says with a nod. “Seven inches and made of aspen. Quite a nice wand to have chosen you.”

Tonks feels pride blossom in her chest as she grips the wand, determined to never let it go.

“It’s good for defensive magic and transfiguring,” Ollivander continues. “It’s a particularly good choice for Aurors, as a matter of fact.”

Tonks gapes at the wand with greater wonder. Becoming an Auror hadn’t been something she considered in her childhood fantasies, but if that’s what her wand was good at, maybe, just maybe, she stood a chance at achieving it. She tries to imagine it in her mind’s eye, and she thinks she likes the idea.

As they leave the shop, she keeps her wand clutched close to her chest.


	17. Our Secret (Parvati/Lavender)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny never meant to walk in on Lavender and Parvati snogging. It was a complete accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content notice: This one includes some implied homophobia.
> 
> Prompts:  
> Parvati/Lavender  
> Ginny Weasley

Lavender had been furious when she and Ron broke up. Mostly because he was in love with Hermione Granger. It stung for your boyfriend to like someone else, even if you’d always known somewhere inside that you weren’t destined to be with him forever.

What she hadn’t expected after the break up was the seemingly sudden—though not really sudden at all—realization that she didn’t even like boys. At first, she had wondered if she was just rebounding to the extreme. It had taken time for her to be sure her feelings were genuine, and it had taken a little longer for her to admit to Parvati how she felt as she didn’t want to ruin their friendship, but an impending war did a lot when it came to boosting your courage.

After admitting their feelings, though, they’d made a serious decision to keep their relationship a secret. There was a lot going on with the war, and the last thing they wanted was to make themselves even greater targets because of who they loved. That made it difficult to be together, especially when their friends were adamant on sticking together in large groups whenever possible to protect each other.

Their dormitory became their safe space. With Hermione of with Harry and Ron, it was only the two of them, and the Carrows and Snape couldn’t access it even if they’d wanted to, much to their chagrin.

Lavender pulled Parvati closer, relishing the feeling of being able to express themselves in the ways they couldn’t for most of the day.

They were so enthralled with each other that neither of them heard the door opening until the intruder cleared their throat.

Lavender and Parvati flew away from each other, but they could only put so much distance between them when they were sitting on the same bed.

Ginny Weasley stood in the doorway, her eyes on a spot on the wall as she spoke.

“Neville’s calling for a DA meeting and neither of you were responding to the coins. When no one answered my knock either, I was worried, but uh… I guess I shouldn’t have been.”

Ginny might have been the only person who could have caught them in such a position and not turned into a blushing mess. In fact, she looked almost amused by the situation, but Lavender was bright red herself. She wanted to tug the sheets off the bed and use them to cover herself even though she and Parvati were both completely clothed.

“Well,” Ginny continued, “we’re meeting in the Room of Requirement in fifteen minutes. Come if you want, but I can tell the others you’re busy.”

She left the room before either of them could respond. Lavender and Parvati stared at the door for a moment before sharing a wide-eyed look. It took three seconds for Lavender to fly off the bed and chase after Ginny, Parvati hot on her heels.

“Wait!” Lavender called, making Ginny pause at the bottom of the staircase.

Lavender lowered her voice, not wanting any Gryffindors in the common room to hear her.

“Please don’t tell anyone. We want to keep it a secret.”

“If the Carrows find out…” Parvati added in a shaky voice.

She was one step up from Lavender and was gripping the other girl’s shoulder with one hand as if she needed it to steady herself.

Ginny’s brow scrunched together in confusion. She tossed a glance over her shoulder before moving up several stairs to allow for more privacy.

“Why would I tell anyone?” she asked. “It’s your business, not mine. Like hell I’m going to let anything get back to the Carrows. What kind of a person do you think I am after everything we’ve gone through this year?”

It was silent for a moment.

“You really won’t tell anyone?” Parvati asked, her grip moving from Lavender’s shoulder to wrap around her hand.

“No,” Ginny said with a sigh. “You can do that yourself when you want. Now, are you coming to the DA meeting or not?”

Lavender and Parvati shared a look. Though Lavender still felt a little shaky from what could have easily been a disaster, she’d become used to a constant state of anxiety since Snape took over Hogwarts. She and Parvati both nodded at each other, making their decision.

With so much going on every day, they couldn’t afford to miss anything.

Ginny didn’t say anything else about what she’d see as they walked to the Room of Requirement together.


	18. Like Mother, Not Like Daughter (Melinda Bobbins)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last thing Melinda wants is to disappoint her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content notice: phobia of crowds, panic attack
> 
> Melinda Bobbins is a character mentioned in HBP as belonging to the Slug Club because her family owns a chain of apothecaries. She's not an OC.
> 
> Prompt:  
> (relationship) mother/daughter

Melinda Bobbin wanted nothing more than for her mother to be proud of her. So much of her life had been dictated by what her mother would find pleasing. She knew less about what she liked than what her mother did.

When Professor Slughorn had first invited her to join the Slug Club on the Hogwarts Express, she had remembered her mother’s fond reminiscing of being in the same club as a Hogwarts student and how beneficial the connections had been when she’d opened her first apothecary in Hogsmeade.

Melinda wasn’t good at brewing potions herself, much to her mother’s ongoing disappointment, but she could sell anything to anyone. She’d honed that skill well growing up in her family’s apothecaries, and she tried to channel those skills to mask the way her stomach sloshed uneasily as she approached the room where Slughorn was holding his Christmas party.

The previous get togethers had felt small compared to the party, and she didn’t like it at all. Melinda could do one-on-one conversations; she could even talk easily with smaller groups of people. She couldn’t handle crowds.

They’d made her feel claustrophobic since she’d been locked in the storeroom of one of their apothecaries as a child. She suffered through the welcome feast every year only to avoid each feast that followed. Only her closest friends noticed her absences. It certainly wasn’t something she’d shared with her family before.

But the Slug Club was important to her mother. She’d be livid if she knew Melinda had turned down the invitation, so Melinda put one foot in front of the other, driving herself towards the party even as it became harder for her to move.

The room was louder than she had expected it to be, which was saying something as she always expected the worst from parties. She resisted her instinct to cringe, keeping her posture straight and ignoring the urge to find a corner where she could curl into a ball and hide.

She made it halfway into the room until it was too much. She was suffocating and needed space before something terrible happened.

Turning on her heel, she fled from the room, breathing heavily. She never saw her mother heading towards her.

* * *

Melinda didn’t make it far before she collapsed against a window sill, her hands shaking as she took deep breaths to calm herself. She could only hope that no one would walk by and see her in such a disheveled state.

Footsteps could be heard around the corner, and her body tensed, preparing to flee if it was anyone particularly unpleasant. When the person came into view, it was her mother, and Melinda shot to her feet, taking a step backwards in her panic. Her mother couldn’t see her right after such an attack. Melinda had put so much effort into appearing calm and collected whenever they were in Diagon Alley or anywhere similar. Her mother was never meant to know how it sometimes felt like the sky itself was closing in around her.

“Melinda, sweetie, are you alright?” her mum asked, walking forward hesitantly until she was standing directly in front of her daughter.

She reached out to place a hand on Melinda’s arm, causing Melinda to flinch. She pretended like she didn’t notice her mother snatch her hand back at the reaction.

“I’m fine,” Melinda replied, her shaky voice betraying her.

“You certainly don’t seem fine,” the woman said, her voice growing stronger as she looked Melinda up and down in her usual analytical way.

Melinda looked towards the opposite wall while she let her mother work things out for herself.

“What’s the matter?” the woman asked. “You looked like you’d seen an army of Dementors back there.”

Melinda took another deep breath and turned her face upward to look at her mother directly.

“Crowds terrify me,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “They have since that time I got locked in the storeroom. Sometimes, I can power through it, but tonight, I was tired and it was too much. I’m sorry.”

Her mother’s brow creased, and she reached out to grip Melinda’s shoulders tightly.

“What are you sorry for? This sounds serious, Melinda. Why have you never told me about this? We need to set up an appointment with the Healers immediately.”

Melinda cringed and pulled away from her mother’s grip.

“I don’t need any Healers. I’m fine when I’m not in a crowd. It’s not a big deal.”

“Melinda,” her mother began, voice stern, “I’m not exaggerating when I say that you looked pale as a ghost back there. You’re going to see a Healer, if for my sake and not your own.”

“Fine,” Melinda mumbled, staring at the stone floor.

A second later, her mother had taken a step forward, gathering her in her arms. Melinda sunk into the embrace without saying a word.


	19. One Must Always Have a Plan (Pansy & Blaise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy isn't happy about being locked in the dungeons. Luckily, Blaise has a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The premise of this story relies on the Slytherins being locked in the dungeons for the Battle of Hogwarts like they are in the movie. Also, I'd more or less consider this one crack.
> 
> Prompts:  
> (colour) ochre  
> (dialogue) "Did you bring the iron rod like I told you?" // "...not the iron one."  
> (character) Pansy Parkinson

Pansy paced the length of the cell, shoving at the other Slytherins that were in her way. Some of them glared at her just as the other students had in the Great Hall, ashamed that one of their own would suggest handing someone over to the Dark Lord.

So she wanted to survive. She wouldn’t apologize for it, no matter how much they glared at her. She would, however, sulk over being shoved in a dungeon that hadn’t even been used for a century or more. The place was cold and filthy. They’d been locked inside for five minutes, and Pansy already felt the need to shower.

She caught sight of an ochre-coloured shard of clay from the corner of her eye. It was lying uselessly in a corner of the cell where a house elf had apparently never seen the need to pick it up. A flash of reckless rage rushed through her, and she reached down for the shard, throwing it against the stone wall with all of her might.

The action drew the attention of everyone in the cell to her, and she was thankful that only a fraction of their house had ended up in the same cell as her. It was mostly her year, and none of them were that surprised by her outburst.

If it got back to her parents, she might be punished for acting uncouth, but she had a feeling no one would think to spread the gossip considering what the rest of their night had consisted of.

“That’s one way to deal with your anger,” Blaise commented cooly from where he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed against his chest. “Though it’s not particularly productive.”

Pansy directed her glare at him, but he didn’t shy away from her like most of the others in the cell had. He had long acted as if he belonged in the Sacred Twenty-Eight despite ‘Zabini’ not being among the names. She had always found it infuriating as much as she had admirable and, dare she admit it, attractive.

“Productive?” she growled. “We’re locked down here without our wands. How do you expect me to be productive? Tell me, are you well-versed in Muggle lock picking, Zabini?”

“Not particularly,” he said with a shrug.

He turned to one of the only third years to have wound up in their cell, a small-looking boy whose dark hair emphasized his pale skin. His grey eyes were wide as he stared up at Blaise.

“Did you bring the iron rod like I told you?” Blaise asked the boy as if he were a teacher asking a student about their homework.

“...not the iron one,” the boy replied in a shaky voice. “I couldn’t find it, and there wasn’t much time. I had to get a steel one instead.”

He pulled the surprisingly long steel rod from inside his robes and held it out to Blaise, who inspected it before nodding.

“This one will do,” he said.

Looking up, he noticed the other Slytherins in their cell watching him with disbelief, and his smirk widened.

“Did none of you come up with plans of your own? I’m disappointed.”

“Where did you get that?” Pansy snapped at the younger boy, who was quick to hide behind Blaise despite the older boy giving no indication he would protect him if needed.

“I’ve had them stashed in a few places around the castle for months,” Blaise said. “It was only a matter of time before the war came to Hogwarts, after all, and you can’t always count on wands. When they said they were sending us to the dungeons, I knew these would be just what we needed, so I had Ethan here grab one for me.”

He didn’t pay attention to his fellow students’ shock as he walked over to inspect the lock, humming to himself as he ran his fingers over it.

“They may have locked us in with magic, but this thing has been rusting for years. Clearly there was no need to maintain the locks.”

He tapped the rod against the lock, testing it out, and grunted in satisfaction.

Rearing his arm back, he brought the rod down as hard as he could against the lock. Pansy cringed, her hands shooting up to cover her ears at the loud ringing produced. When she had recovered enough to open her eyes, it was to find the remains of the lock scattered on the ground and the cell door swinging back and forth on its hinges.

Blaise chuckled to himself as he pushed the door open and stood to the side, bowing as if he were a butler ushering guests inside a house.

“After you,” he said, making direct eye contact with Pansy.

When she stayed rooted in place, the others pushed past her and Blaise, filing out of the dungeons. Most of them hardly paid attention to the pleas of their fellow classmates in the other cells, though a few stopped to do what they could.

Pansy couldn’t even bring herself to leave the cell as she stared at Blaise with his stupid smirk and casual posture. He looked as if he used steel rods to break out of dungeon cells every day.

“You’re stupid.”

His smirk widened before he asked, “How?”

The way his brow went upward with the question infuriated her more, and with a loud huff, she found it in her to push past him, trying not to pay attention to his laughter as she hurried out of the dungeons.


	20. Sharp Winds (Parvati)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parvati doesn't know how to move on after Lavender's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (weather) windy  
> (colour) tan  
> (dialogue) "No one can replace you."  
> (character) Parvati Patil

The wind whipped Parvati’s hair across her face as she walked through the cemetery, and she cursed herself for not pulling it up before she’d left home. It had been too difficult to get herself to the cemetery for her to bother with her hair or makeup. They weren’t important for the task at hand. Even in life, she’d never needed to make herself ‘pretty’ when she was with Lavender. Lavender had always been the one person whom Parvati never had to worry about looking like a mess in front of. She’d always known she wouldn’t be judged.

She’d desperately missed that since Lavender had been killed; she’d desperately missed a lot of things in the aftermath of the war. Nothing would ever be the same without her best friend and the girl she was sure had been the love of her life.

Tears were already streaming down her face by the time she reached Lavender’s tombstone. The wind gave the air a bite that Parvati relished. A recent rain had left the soil damp, but Parvati paid no mind to her light tan trousers as she knelt before the grave and placed a handful of Lavender’s favourite white carnations into the vase attached to the tombstone.

She ran her hand along the cool granite, tracing Lavender’s name with her finger. Though Parvati had helped Lavender’s parents pick out the tombstone, it was cold and impersonal. No slab of stone could capture Lavender as she’d been while alive. That would have been foolish to hope for.

Parvati swiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks. Months had passed; she was supposed to have stopped crying each time she thought of Lavender. Surely, the pain couldn’t stay with her forever. All things faded with time.

“Why did it have to be you?” she asked quietly, not caring that her voice cracked or that the wind carried the words away. “It could have been anyone. Why was it you? You were the one person whose death I wouldn’t be able to get over. No one can replace you.”

Her heart tightened with the truth of the words.

There was never going to be anyone else like Lavender in her life. That was the simple truth. She could find love again perhaps, but it wouldn’t be the same as what she’d had with Lavender. Something had been lost to Parvati forever that night at Hogwarts.

It was Padma who found her an hour later, still staring hopelessly at the tombstone as if something about it would change.

It was always Padma who came after her. Her parents could hardly look at her anymore. They’d tried and tried to help her through her grief, but when nothing worked, they became too exhausted to try again.

Padma knelt beside her, and Parvati leaned into her sister’s side, shivering as she realized for the first time how cold the wind had made her. Without speaking, Padma wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and cast a heat charm that made Parvati sigh with relief.

Parvati had been doing that a lot recently, forgetting to cast charms for the simplest of things. It wasn’t just magic either. She was forgetting to do a lot of things. Her parents often snapped at her for it, but Padma was silent as they sat together in front of Lavender’s grave.

None of Padma’s closest friends had died, though many of them had stayed behind to fight. That had made Parvati angry in the immediate aftermath of the battle, but months later, she found that the knowledge only made her numb. She couldn’t find anger inside herself any longer.

“We should go,” Padma said softly after she and Parvati had been staring at the tombstone together for fifteen minutes. “Neither of us needs to catch pneumonia.”

Parvati didn’t make a move to leave, so Padma nudged her in the shoulder.

“Come on. You know as well as I do that Lavender would never have wanted to see you sick.”

It was a cliche way to get Parvati to leave the cemetery, but it worked each time Padma used it. Lavender wasn’t there, but the last thing Parvati wanted was to upset her if she was somewhere where she could see what was happening with those she’d left behind.

Parvati kind of hoped she could see them, but she also kind of hoped she couldn’t. She’d never felt so confused about her beliefs on life after death as she had since attending the multitude of funerals and memorials that had been held in the months after the war.

She grasped Padma’s hand tightly, letting her sister Apparate out of the cemetery with her in tow.


	21. I'll Take Care of You (Kingsley)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a young Kingsley finds some kittens, it's up to him to find their parents as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (word) heaven  
> (word) talent  
> Kingsley Shacklebolt

Kingsley hadn’t expected anything more from the day than the usual. He would run around the village pretending to be an Auror (or a police officer if one of the Muggles asked him what he was doing), only going home whenever he was called for. It was how he spent all of his days.

Or most of them, at least. His mum had begun teaching him reading and basic arithmetic, so he couldn’t always run around anymore. Sometimes he had to sit still at their kitchen table for a few hours and trace his letters and numbers. It wasn’t fun, but his mum insisted that it was important. Apparently, you couldn’t go to Hogwarts unless you knew how to read, so Kingsley tried his best. Most of the time. Sometimes sitting there was just too hard.

That was only a few days a week though, and today was one in which he was free to run around for as long as he wanted. His mum was busy cleaning and didn’t have time to help him with his numbers.

Finding a litter of kittens had never been something he’d expected, but he heard the soft mewling from a bush along the side of the road and immediately had to investigate. His heart nearly stopped when he found the four squirming kittens cuddled tightly together amongst the roots of a bush.

In all his short life, Kingsley had never seen kittens for himself before. They were tinier than he would have expected, and he could tell from the way they stuck close together that they needed a mummy or daddy cat. They couldn’t have hunted down a mouse by themselves like Kingsley had seen the neighbor’s cat do once. He looked around, but there were no other cats in sight.

Feeling a little daring, he reached out to pet the tiniest of the kittens, and his heart twisted. He was a big kid compared to the kittens, but even he would be scared if he had no idea how to find his mum or dad.

There was clearly no other choice but for him to find their mummy or daddy for himself. Though he hated to leave them behind, he knew it would be better for them in the long run. There wasn’t much in the neighborhood that was scary anyway, so he was sure they’d be safe.

“I’ll find them for you,” he told the kittens softly before setting off down the road at a jog, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of a cat. He had a talent for finding things, so he knew the kittens had nothing to worry about with him on the case.

It took him twenty minutes before he found a dead cat resting in an alleyway with bloody scratches along its body. Kingsley cried out, backing away before he could gather his courage.

Taking a deep breath, he approached the body and squatted down beside it. The cat had the same orange and white spots that two of the kittens had inherited. Kingsley knew this had to be the kittens’ mother, and his heart hurt knowing she was dead and the kittens had no mum.

He didn’t dare touch the body, but he leaned over it to look at the wounds. There were what seemed to be claw marks, so his best guess was that it had been attacked by something. His mind conquered up images of spooky monsters to explain it.

There was a small patch of grass nearby where some dandelions were growing. Kingsley plucked each of them out of the dirt and scattered them across the cat’s body, not knowing what else to do in memorial. His parents probably wouldn’t let him bury it, and he couldn’t take it back to the kittens. Having your parent missing was one thing; seeing them dead was another.

He stroked his hand in the air over the cat as if he were petting it, hoping that it was up in heaven somewhere where it could see the gesture and recognize what it meant.

With several tears dripping down his cheeks, Kingsley set back off for the kittens at a far slower pace than the hurried one of his earlier search.

It would be a hard sell getting his parents to take in the kittens, but he was determined.


	22. A Surprising Bathroom Break (Lily & Myrtle)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily just wanted to use the bathroom. She didn't expect to find a ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Lily Evans Potter  
> Moaning Myrtle  
> (word) frozen  
> (word) empty

All Lily had wanted was to take a quick trip to the toilet between lessons. Nothing about it was supposed to be noteworthy. She’d pop in on her way to Transfiguration and be out in less than two minutes. That was generally how things worked, but one thing she’d learned in the few months she’d been at Hogwarts was that things didn’t always work out how she thought they would. The castle had a number of surprises up its sleeve, and somehow, each time she thought she couldn’t be surprised anymore, it would show her something new.

She certainly hadn’t expected to hear wailing while she was in a toilet stall. The second the noise started, she sat frozen on the toilet, trying to figure out where it was coming from. No one had entered the room as she was sure she’d have heard them come in, but she’d been positive that the room was empty when she entered.

Overcoming her shock, she hurried to finish and pushed her stall door open, looking in the direction of the sound.

Though none of Hogwarts’ surprises had been sinister so far, she was on alert as she took several steps forward. The Whomping Willow was on Hogwarts’ grounds after all. The new tree was all the older students could talk about—or complain about was more accurate. None of them could understand why Dumbledore would let such a tree be planted, but if he would, there was no telling what else Lily might have stumbled upon.

Whoever was wailing certainly didn’t sound happy.

It didn’t take long to pinpoint which stall the wailing was emanating from. Lily took a deep breath, raised her hand, and knocked on the stall door. Except she didn’t knock at all because the door hadn’t been locked to begin with. Instead, the door swung open, revealing an empty stall.

Lily took a step forward in confusion and realized the wailing was coming from inside the toilet itself. With an audible gasp, she back away until she hit one of the sinks, wincing at the impact that had likely formed a bruise. Her pain had just about distracted her from her fear when a ghost shot out from the toilet and came to hover above her head.

With another gasp, Lily stared at the ghost. She still wasn’t used to them when they appeared out of nowhere, even though most of them she’d met had been friendly, especially Nearly Headless Nick. This ghost didn’t look much older than Lily herself, but her face was contorted in a scowl that left Lily feeling like she was on the receiving end of something nasty.

“What is your problem?” the ghost demanded.

Her voice sounded like a typical girl of her age, not a monster, and Lily’s fears lessened, though she kept her back pressed against the sink to keep her distance.

“I’m sorry,” she began. “I didn’t mean to do anything. I only wanted to use the toilets.”

The ghost zoomed closer, stopping right in front of Lily.

“They all say that,” she said, her voice sadder than it had been moments ago. “Then they laugh at me. It’s always the same. Everyone laughs.”

“I wasn’t going to laugh,” Lily stressed, her heart hammering in her chest as she stressed the words. “Really. I don’t even know who you are. Why would I laugh?”

A strange look passed over the ghost’s face, and Lily couldn’t tell if she was relieved or upset that Lily hadn’t heard of her. Perhaps she was both. It was quiet for a second before the ghost let out a choked sob.

“I’m Moaning Myrtle,” she cried suddenly, making Lily gasp again. “That’s what they all call me, so you might as well call me that too.”

“If it upsets you, then I don’t want to—”

Myrtle cut her off with a wail so loud it was nearly a scream. Lily winced, covering her ears as Myrtle zoomed around in the air and went straight back into the U-bend without a glance over her shoulder at Lily. 

Lily stared for a moment as the water in the toilet bowl bubbled up and nearly splashed over the sides. A few seconds later, water began shooting into the air, and Lily realized that Myrtle intended to flood the entire room.

She turned on her heel and ran, determined not to get blamed for the actions of a ghost. The Transfiguration classroom had never felt farther away, and she had no idea if she was late or not as she hurried. All she knew was that she was never using that lavatory again no matter how badly she needed to go.


	23. For the Love of a Brother (Lisa Turpin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lisa never wanted to be part of a war, but her brother had different ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (genre) family  
> (character) Lisa Turpin

Lisa let out a steady stream of curses in her head, surprising even herself with how many she knew. She’d always been quiet. It was more or less what she was known for to the extent she was known at all, which wasn’t much. She liked it that way. In all her years, she had never longed for the notoriety that so many seemed to crave. 

Most of the students in her own house and year rarely remembered her name. Even fewer said hello when they past her in the corridor. Her roommates had long ago given up on befriending her, though she’d never been sure what she’d done to inspire the hatred they seemed to harbor for her if their glares were anything to go by.

She had planned to get through her Hogwarts career while attracting as little attention as possible. Even when Snape had taken over as headmaster and welcomed the Carrows onto the staff, it had seemed doable. Her family was far enough removed from any Muggle relatives that they weren’t an immediate target, and she had no reputation as a troublemaker as far as the Death Eaters were concerned.

When McGonagall had called for all who wished not to fight to leave, Lisa had few qualms about heading for safety. She would have long ago made it home if she hadn’t realized that Chase wasn’t among those evacuating.

The hallways of the castle were a mess as Death Eaters and students alike flooded the halls, spells flying with seemingly little care as to where they landed. Lisa’s heart raced as she ducked and ran, not use to the exertion she was putting her body through. Her wand remained clutched in her hand, but she wasn’t certain she’d have the bravery to use it if she met a Death Eater head on.

All she wanted was to find her brother, the one person in the world she would have descended into the madness of war for. The thought of him possibly lying dead somewhere propelled her forward even as spells mentioned her by hairs.

She found him after what felt like years of running around the castle. He was facing off against a Death Eater who seemed taller than any regular human could dream of achieving, but she thought her fears might have been warping her view. Her running picked up speed as she neared them, her wand shaking in her hand.

The Death Eater had forgone his mask, so Lisa had no trouble seeing the arrogance on his face. His smirk widened when she came to a stop at Chase’s side, gasping for breath. It’s all she can manage not to hunch over and grip at her stomach, but she’s determined to maintain what little facade of strength she has left.

“Lisa?” Chase gasped.

She didn’t look at him; she can’t look at him when there’s pure danger standing across from them watching them as if they’re a wonderful amusement. She doesn’t care how much she’s shocked Chase with her unusual actions. She’d scold him later for thinking she wouldn’t come after him. First, they had to make it out alive.

The Death Eater’s smirk widened when Lisa pointed her wand directly at his chest. She does her best to ignore it by watching his hands for signs he’s about to try something with his own wand. It takes several seconds that feel much longer before he raises his wand, and Lisa has a split second to decide on a spell first, throwing a stunning spell with far more force than she’d realized she possessed.

“Lisa,” Chase breathed beside her, just as shocked as she was.

She stares at the man’s prone form trying to process that she was the one who’d done it. In class, she’d had to stun people, of course, but it was far different when the person knew it was coming. And even then she’d been hesitant about it, never able to cast a truly powerful stunner. Not until the Death Eater. 

Her heart raced, and it wasn’t entirely because of danger but because she’s no longer sure what she’s capable of when facing off against people who wish her and her brother harm. It was the first time in her life where she could remember surprising herself.

She backed away from him, reaching out blindly to grope for Chase’s hand. He easily slips it into hers, and Lisa holds on tightly, anchoring herself as much as she’s protecting him.

“Come on,” she said, voice carrying an edge that’s new too. “They’re all over the place. We’ve got to move. We’ve got to do...something.”

She had no idea what. It was too late for them to evacuate with the others, and she’d resigned herself to fighting when she’d realized Chase was missing. Still, she had little idea of what fighting actually entailed, and now that her singular mission of finding her brother was over, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do next.

“This way,” Chase said, taking the lead with a level of enthusiasm that scared her. “There’s more of them over here.”

Lisa’s heart raced, but she couldn’t argue as he sped them towards the direction of more fighting. Though she hadn’t wanted to fight, she had little choice any longer.


	24. Melt Like Ice Cream (Blaise/Draco)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaise doesn't understand why Draco will fight for Astoria when he wouldn't fight for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (setting) Fortescue's  
> (emotion) confusion  
> (trope) unrequited love

Blaise’s large chocolate sundae sat melting in its bowl. He’d ordered it merely as a cover. He hadn’t had the appetite for it, but the larger the sundae, the longer he could sit at Florean Fortescue’s without people thinking it was odd. He had planned to eat it, but that plan had quickly been deemed a failure. Besides, giving himself a cover had been unnecessary in the end. For the half an hour he’d been watching Draco and Astoria from across the shop, they hadn’t shown one sign that they realized he was there. Blaise could have blasted apart one of the tables, and they’d likely still be staring only at each other. It baffled him.

It hurt him that Draco, of all people, hadn’t detected his presence. Actually, it didn’t just hurt; it made him nauseous. Never in his life had he felt such deep humiliation, but only Draco would know the source of his embarrassment. Somehow, that made it worse. The knowledge that he’d let himself grow close only to be betrayed left him as angry with himself as he was Draco. He stabbed at his tilting tower of ice cream and made it tumble down inside the bowl. He wished the tiny act of violence had given him more satisfaction than it did.

Astoria said something that made Draco lean closer and laugh. Nothing about their interactions hinted at the falsity Blaise had hoped to find. You couldn’t fake the laughter Blaise could hear from across the parlor—the laughter so joyous that it betrayed proper pureblood conduct. His stomach twisted each time the sound left Draco’s mouth. It was the same laugh he had used time and again with Blaise. Those moments had been ones of pride for him. He had been the only person who could get that laugh out of Draco. Not anymore.

He didn’t understand. Perhaps, if he did, accepting the situation would have been easier.

The knowledge that he and Draco would have to break off their secret relationship, if Blaise was allowed to call it a relationship after what had transpired, had been on his mind since Draco had first hesitantly reached out to brush his leg with his foot while they studied in the library. He’d always known they’d be forced into respectable pureblood marriages with women. There was no getting around that, and he had thought he viewed the arrangement with a clear mind. He hadn’t expected any surprises.

But he also hadn’t expected Draco to like the woman he would marry. He had assumed, perhaps foolishly, that he would have the comfort of knowing he was the one with influence over Draco, while the wife was nothing to him but the source of an heir. Knowing Draco had chosen Astoria himself, despite knowing his parents strongly disapproved of the marriage, left Blaise furious. How could Draco accept his family’s disapproval for her but not for Blaise? They’d shared so much more together.

This wasn’t the respectable marriage Blaise had accepted for Draco years ago. It was an unrespectable one that Draco had to fight for after years of making it clear that he wouldn’t stand up to his parents or society for Blaise. Somehow, Astoria held an influence over him that Blaise never had, and no matter how long he watched them from across the shop, the source of that influence continued to puzzle him. There was nothing remarkable about Astoria Greengrass.

His and Draco’s relationship may have been a secret, but it had been undeniably real. Blaise had been sure of that until they left Hogwarts and Draco stopped returning his owls. Blaise had gotten wind of his new romance soon after. Not from Draco though. He had instead heard about it through the grapevine of gossip that circulated through wizarding Britain. One that provided none of the explanations Blaise craved.

It was the scandal of the year among the who’s who of wizarding society. Pansy had sneered when she told him about it, commenting that she didn’t understand why anyone would want to date such a dreadfully boring girl as Astoria Greengrass. Blaise didn’t understand that either, but he had far better reasons for his confusion than Pansy. It had taken a lot of effort to keep his face impassive and shrug while Pansy ranted about Astoria’s inferiority. He wondered what she would think if she knew the truth about him and Draco. He imagined they wouldn’t be friends any longer.

Perhaps he could have accepted Draco moving on from him if he’d received more than mere silence beforehand. That angered him more than hurtful words could have. A conversation would have provided a clear ending; the silence drug on, leaving him confused about where they stood, both currently and previously.

It hurt him almost as much as watching Draco laugh without sparing a glance towards the man whose heart he had shattered. Not for the first time since he’d learned of the relationship, Blaise wondered if the real lie had been what they had shared with each other all those years, not the supposed lies they’d told the rest of the world. After all, they had never spoken of feelings. Blaise had assumed they were on the same page.

He was beginning to feel as if he might blast apart a table after all. He pushed his ice cream away from him and stood, keeping his head low to avoid making eye contact with Fortescue or any of the customers. He was confident in the knowledge that Draco and Astoria wouldn’t notice him leave, but he was all too aware of the emotions written across his face as he fled from the shop.


	25. Please Don't Grow Quiet (Tonks/Remus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During her first Order meeting, Tonks feels out of place, but she's quickly drawn to Remus Lupin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Remus/Tonks  
> (trait) intelligent  
> write about someone wanting more of something

Tonks stuck to her chair, feeling isolated from the other Order members as they chatted happily around her. When Moody had first approached her about joining the Order, she’d known it was secretive, but she had expected more Aurors to be part of the group than there were. She also hadn’t expected to be one of the youngest members. It was only her first meeting, and she couldn’t stop glancing at the others and being surprised at how much experience they had compared to her. It was great for the war effort; it was terrible for her self-confidence.

Moody and her cousin Sirius were the only members she knew personally. Technically, she knew Snape and McGonagall, but that was far different and only served to strengthen her feelings of inferiority. And though she knew Sirius, she had spoken to him for the first time in more than a decade merely three days earlier. Even Moody was content to nurse a glass of beer and observe the others rather than speak to her.

Despite viewing herself as a bubbly person who was unafraid to talk to anyone, Tonks had found one situation where she couldn’t figure out how to strike up a conversation.

Her eyes drifted to Sirius again as she continued making sense of what he had been through. It had been a shock to learn that the cousin whom she’d been ashamed of being the Ministry’s most wanted criminal was actually innocent. Though it had been a relief, it left her struggling with the beliefs she’d carried for most of her life. It had been the last bit of proof she needed that she couldn’t trust the Ministry as much as she wished she could.

As she watched him, Sirius was wrapped up in conversation with a man whom Tonks hadn’t met. His face was scarred, creating questions for Tonks that she couldn’t help but speculate about to herself. The only people she knew with that many past injuries were Aurors, but he wasn’t on the force. If he was, she knew she would have spoken to him before to ask him about the source of the scars.

Her anxiety calmed when Dumbledore arrived and called the meeting to a start, though she was reluctant to draw her attention away from Sirius and the mysterious man.

The same man was called on to speak first, and Tonks learned when Dumbledore addressed him that his name was Remus. Her eyes widened as Dumbledore mentioned his work with the werewolves. The answers to her questions about his scars were becoming clear. She leaned forward as he began to speak.

“I’ve made contact with some of the werewolves in Greyback’s pack. They don’t trust me entirely, but they didn’t have many qualms about sharing their feelings with a fellow werewolf. Almost all of them admitted they’ve at least considered You-Know-Who’s offer to join his cause.”

Snape spoke, not caring that he was cutting Remus off.

“Of course they have,” he said with an upturned nose. “What did you expect to find, Lupin?”

Quite a few of the Order members glared at Snape. Tonks could tell Remus had gathered support in the Order despite his status as a werewolf. It drew her to him even more. Never before had she known of a werewolf with so many friends.

“I expected exactly what I found, Severus,” Remus said. His body was tense, but his voice was nothing but calm. “Considering the contempt the Ministry treats my kind with, I knew as well as you did that a number of werewolves would be willing to test alternatives if there was any chance of it providing them with a better life. Of course, the best solution for that problem would be for the Ministry to treat werewolves with respect instead of outcasting them. Then most of them wouldn’t feel the need to side with You-Know-Who, but I know that’s a plan many at the Ministry would disagree with strongly as they much prefer to believe us werewolves have a predilection for the dark and violent.”

Snape didn’t respond except through a glare.

Tonks’ stomach fluttered, which made her avert her gaze even though she knew that no one but her knew of it. Remus was staring back at Snape, silently challenging him, and Tonks couldn’t have admitted out loud the draw she felt towards a man she didn’t know.

She was struck by the intelligent way he had turned Snape’s comment back on him and the way he was able to remain calm in the face of such disrespect. She couldn’t imagine what he must have gone through, even from people within the Order. It surprised her how willing she would have been to sit and listen to him talk longer about the injustices he’d faced. While she had been curious about all she would learn in the Order meeting, she no longer wanted to listen to anyone but him. She thought she would have listened to him forever.

She didn’t realize she was gawking until Dumbledore thanked Remus for his update. As he sat back down, he caught her eye for the first time and blushed at the way she was openly staring. Tonks snapped her mouth shut and averted her eyes, but when their gazes met again a few minutes later, neither of them could help but smile shyly before looking away again.


	26. We've Grown Wise (Tonks/Fleur/Hermione)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's not sure the world will care what she has to saw, but her partners assure her they will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Tonks/Fleur/Hermione  
> write about a supper/dinner  
> (trait) wise

Retirement wasn’t enough to make Hermione stop working. Not a day passed without her pouring over the books in her study and scribbling on parchment. Her career at the Ministry may have come to an end, but there were a myriad of things she could do from her own home. Politics had kept her away from many great books over the years, and not only was she determined to read them all, she was determined to make her own voice heard.

She wrote day and night, at times forgetting about other responsibilities. Luckily, she had others for that.

“Hermione,” Fleur called up the stairs, “dinner’s ready. If you’re not down here in ten minutes, one of us is coming up there.”

With a sigh, Hermione forced herself to put down her quill despite how painful it was to do. She’d been right in the middle of a crucial paragraph that she’d been working towards for the better part of the day, but when her partners called, she had no choice but to answer. She knew their determination would have her downstairs eventually, and it was far easier for all three of them if Hermione came on her own.

Her mind remained lost in her studies, though, as she ambled down the stairs. It was only once she was outside of the kitchen that the smell of burnt food brought her back to the house.

Of course, it was Tonks turn to cook dinner. Hermione sighed as she thought about how she’d have to force herself to eat it. At the beginning of their partnership, it had been nearly impossible for Tonks to cook a meal without burning it, but this was the first time she’d burnt something in nearly a year. Hermione had grown too complacent.

“What is that meant to be?” she asked as she entered the kitchen, unable to stop her nose from wrinkling as the smell grew stronger.

Fleur was sitting before one of the empty plates at the table and tapping away on her Muggle phone. She was likely talking to one of her friends in France who had gotten very into Muggle technology after her son was born a squib.

“She was meant to be baking lasagna,” Fleur said without pausing in her typing.

Hermione turned to look at Tonks where she was bent over a casserole dish and pointing her wand at the pasta as if there was something she could do to save it. Hermione moved closer to see the food for herself, and couldn’t help but groan at the blackened mess that looked nothing like the dish it was supposed to be.

“I’m sorry,” Tonks moaned. “I thought this time would be different. My cookings been going so well recently, so I figured that I could finally best my arch nemesis, but I guess not. What is it with lasagna? Why’s it so hard to cook?”

Hermione smiled and rubbed her girlfriend’s back, choosing not to mention that lasagna really wasn’t all that difficult to master, at least to the point of not burning it. They’d all accepted years ago that cooking just wasn’t Tonks’ forte.

“The nutrition is the same,” Hermione said with a slight nod, taking out her wand and giving it a wave so that the casserole dish zoomed onto the table.

Fleur put away her phone and promptly started cutting the lasagna into squares and dishing it out onto their plates.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Fleur observed as the other women sat down. She ignored Tonks’ sharp look. “The longer many foods are cooked, the more nutrients they lose. Surely that’s been in one of the countless books you’ve read, mon amour.”

“Maybe it was in there somewhere,” Hermione admitted with a slight shrug, accepting her plate back from Fleur. “Anyway,” she said, quickly changing to subject to get rid of the frown on Tonks’ face, “I reached the best part of the book today. I think I’ll be ready to send it off to publishers within a couple of months. I can only hope one of them will be willing to accept it.”

Tonks scoffed, sharing a look with Fleur.

“Of course they’ll accept it,” she said. “No publisher is going to turn down a book written by the most popular Minister for Magic that Britain’s had in the last century at least.”

Hermione blushed slightly and looked away from her partners. No matter how many times people framed her time as Minister in that way, it never stopped making her uncomfortable. She’d done her best, yes, but she hadn’t done it alone, and she certainly hadn’t done anything miraculous. It was mere luck that of her most recent successors, Kingsley was the only one who had cared more for their welfare of the wizarding world than their own skin.

“She’s right,” Fleur said, reaching across the table to rest her hand atop Hermione’s. “Every witch and wizard in Britain knows you’re one of the wisest in Britain. They’ll all want to hear what you have to say, and we,” she motioned at Tonks, who leaned forward to add her hand on top of theirs, “have read enough to know how brilliant it really is.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said quietly.

It never ceased to amaze her how, after decades together, Tonks and Fleur were still able to make her feel like a blushing school girl. There were few in the world who would be willing to listen to Hermione rant about what she was writing for hours on end, and she was still amazed that she’d found not just one but two amazing people happy to do just that. Sometimes, at least.

Tonks leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek as Fleur lifted her hand to do the same to the back of it. Hermione smiled, feeling warm and content. For the moment, at least, she’d forgotten that she still had a burnt piece of lasagna to eat.


	27. Pink Camellias (Pansy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy never asked to fall for Hermione Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (character) Pansy Parkinson  
> (weather) snowy  
> Write about wishing on a star.  
> (word) hapless

Pansy wasn’t a fan of Hermione Granger, but even she glared when Featherbottom stood up in a high level meeting and dared to state outright that a woman couldn’t do as well as Minister as a man. She was prepared to vote for Granger for another term just to spite the man, but she hadn’t been prepared for Granger to stand up and put him in his place.

“I’m sorry if you feel as if you were passed over for the job, Mr Featherbottom. I’m sure that if you hadn’t once been accused to stealing your department’s funds, you’d be where I am now.”

Featherbottom stammered out a defense of himself.

“Those reports were never proven. The nerve of you to mention it when it’s not relevant to the issue at hand.”

Pansy found herself staring at Granger in a whole new light. As much as she wished to stop it, she felt incredibly turned on. She looked down at the table, clenching her fist in her lap.

Why could she never like someone she stood a chance with?

It wasn’t a nice, single person. No, now she could hardly look at the married Minister for Magic who she’d tormented their entire childhoods. 

She fled the second the meeting was over.

* * *

Months passed, and Pansy’s new awareness of their Minister for Magic didn’t disappear. Each time Hermione’s office door opened, Pansy’s eyes would snap to it from where she sat at her own desk, waiting to see what would happen. If it was because she was looking out for juicy gossip, perhaps she wouldn’t have been as furious with herself as she was.

But her preoccupation with Granger wasn’t just at work; it haunted her outside of it too. On her days off, she would often find her mind wandering to what Granger might be doing, and far more often than she’d like to admit, she’d imagine what she and Hermione might be doing together if circumstances were different.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep up the cold politeness they’d fostered since Pansy had joined Hermione’s force of lowly minions at the Ministry. The first time she’d smiled along with her nod, she had internally betrayed herself for the rest of the day, but it had held repercussions, not least of which was Hermione smiling back.

Somehow, Pansy and Hermione grew of become, if not friends, then at least co-workers who were friendly with each other.

Pansy still wasn’t sure what possessed her to invite the Minister, of all people, out to lunch, but she’d done it, and by some miracle, Hermione hadn’t been too busy that she’d simply turned her down out of necessity.

No, she was sitting across from Hermione Granger in a small cafe trying to make small talk, and she hated every second of it.

Though the snowy weather outside was far from pleasant, Pansy had half a mind to flee into it and never come back for work. It would have been less tortuous than navigating her way through careful conversation that didn’t reveal the less than appropriate thoughts that often filtered through her head during nights at home alone.

“How’s life for you then?” Pansy asked, not having to work to add a slight tingle of bitterness to the question. “We all know about Weasley’s frequent visits to your office.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but the way her lips quirked upward didn’t seem to hint at offense.

“Things are good,” Hermione said. “Rose graduates Hogwarts soon, which is difficult to believe.”

Pansy gave a noise of agreement, though she’d never met Rose for herself. She’d heard from others that the girl was the perfect combination of her parents, and Pansy couldn’t decide how that made her feel.

“What about you?” Hermione asked, lifting a spoonful of soup to her lips. 

Pansy didn’t know how to answer the question. Her life wasn’t like Hermione’s; she didn’t have kids or a spouse to carry on about. That had never bothered her before. It still wouldn’t have if it had been anyone but Hermione sitting across from her. She didn’t want her longing to be heard in every word.

She shrugged, doing her best to appear unaffected. 

“It’s the same as always,” she said. “I don’t have much to complain about.”

She bit at the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from adding, “Except that I don’t have you.”

She shoveled pasta into her mouth, and as she swallowed, she willed her emotions to go with it.

* * *

The snow had cleared by that night, though the air was just as bitingly cold as Pansy sad on her back patio and stared up at the stars. 

For all the bite she showed other people, she’d always been a hapless romantic. She developed crush after crush, but not one of the people who she shone her affections on ever liked her back. After decades of more of the same, she felt doomed in love.

A star streaked across the sky, earning a gasp from Pansy. She stood, staring at the spot on the horizon where it had disappeared. It was the first time she’d seen one for herself. Biting her lip, she wished for her feelings to fade soon and, if she could add to the wish, for her to never fall for someone again. There was too much pain and inconvenience involved.

She was much better off without it.


	28. Settle in at My Side (Phineas Nigellus/Ursula)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phineas sets aside his book when Ursula comes to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content notice: Coddling sexism and being a terrible father.
> 
> Prompts:  
> (character) Phineas Nigellus Black  
> Write fluff.  
> Write about a married couple.  
> (word) damp

Phineas was deep in a biography of Salazar Slytherin, resting against the pillows he’d piled in front of the headboard, when the bedroom door opened to reveal Ursula. She was already clad in her nightgown and had braided her damp hair into a long plait that rested between her shoulder blades. Phineas sat his book aside, lips quirking upward in a smile as she approached. The lamp he’d been reading by illuminated her features in the most flattering of ways. A book he’d already read several times couldn’t compete with her for attention, no matter what the subject matter.

“The children are asleep,” Ursula said with a sigh, sliding into the blankets and bunching them around her waist. “I was starting to think little Phineas would never quiet down. It took three stories before he closed his eyes tonight.”

Phineas leaned over to place a soft kiss to his wife’s forehead, but that wasn’t enough affection to satisfy her. She snuggled close, resting her head on his chest, and though he cringed as her wet hair made his nightshirt grow damp, he didn’t protest. Her daily baths were a source of pride, and he would never ask her to stop them. He merely wished she would bother with a drying spell before coming to bed instead of feeling she needed to wear her wet hair like a medal.

“Phineas is still colicky then?” Phineas asked, playing with a ribbon that adorned the sleeve of her gown.

Her shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“It’s not colic when he’s three years old, dear.”

She patted his chest twice before he swatted her hand away in protest. How was he to know the ins and outs of children? His namesake had started crying as an infant and never stopped, as if were determined to make things difficult for his family before he could even talk. Was it any wonder Phineas couldn’t see a difference between the colic and what they continued to deal with each day?

“Here’s merely acting as all toddlers do,” Ursula continued. “There’s no need to worry yourself with it. Little Phineas is perfectly fine. Or, at least, he will be once he matures.”

Phineas was thankful she couldn’t see his pursed lips while resting her head against his chest. When he’d raised the idea that she was too soft with the children, she had taken the criticism with offense instead of as a sign to change, and Phineas was far too tired to deal with the dramatics that broaching the topic again would bring. Instead, he kissed her head and ran his hand along her back, determined to distract the both of them.

“Of course, Ursula. You understand the children far better than I do.”

A fact which she always loved to remind him of, but the time was nearing when Sirius would need to come under his father’s wing and distance himself from his mother. Ursula was dreading the day. Phineas wasn’t sure if he was looking forward to it himself. Sirius was a mild-mannered child, but shaping the younger Phineas into a respectable pureblood sounded like a larger task than Phineas had signed up for when he became a father.

Ursula raised her head to look at him, a large smile on her lips. Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“You need rest,” she said, reaching over him to extinguish the lamp. Phineas blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden change. “There’s no sense keeping yourself up all night. You know it makes you cranky, and you don’t accomplish anything when you’re cranky.”

He grumbled, but she was right and would remind him so in the morning if he didn’t listen to her and allow himself to drift off to sleep. He followed her lead in sliding further under the blankets, relishing the feeling of her pressed into his side. The dampness of her hair was forgotten as the warmth of their bodies mingled together beneath the blankets.


	29. Lollygag (Andromeda/Ted)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda allows herself to relax on her birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (words) lollygag, provoke

Andromeda didn’t often allow herself time to lollygag, but her birthday was one time of the year she’d make an exception. She sunk into the warm water of the bath and sighed in relief. A nice warm bath was one of her favourite things, especially in the winter, but she rarely allowed herself the pleasure. There was always too much to be done.

The air smelled of the flowers Ted had sprinkled for her in the bath, and Andromeda knew it would be hard to get herself out of the bath until the water was cold. Everything about it had been carefully designed to make her relax, and her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned against the side of the tub.

A quiet knock on the door made her eyes fly open, her thoughts immediately going to Nymphadora, but it was Ted who popped his head inside.

“I’ve brought chocolate,” he said with a smile, holding out a box of Honeyduke’s best to her.

Andromeda’s face lit up at the sigh. Chocolate was a treat that she allowed herself to indulge in much more frequently, but that didn’t make it any less welcome.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the box and placing it carefully on the side of the tub. “I really appreciate this.”

Ted gave a fond shake of his head, leaning over the edge of the tub to press a quick kiss to Andromeda’s lips.

“Join me,” she whispered as he pulled away.

Ted’s smile widened, but he shook his head with greater purpose.

“Don’t provoke me,” he said softly. “There’s a toddler out there demanding that I tuck her in.”

Andromeda chuckled.

“Well, I guess my birthday isn’t over for a few hours yet.”

Ted hummed. “No, it isn’t,” he agreed.

She watched him go with a smile, only allowing her eyes to flutter shut once more after the door had closed behind him.


	30. Verve (Graham Montague)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graham cares far more for work than he does dating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (word) verve  
> Write for a character you've never written for before.  
> Write about someone loving single life.  
> Write about a discovery or invention that has a large impact.  
> (character) Graham Montague

Graham took a swig of his beer, the tension he’d gained throughout the day draining from his body. Brandon downed half of his own beer in one go, prompting Graham to raise a questioning eyebrow.

“My girlfriend’s waiting for me at home,” Brandon said with a shrug. “I’m afraid I can’t stay long.”

Graham rolled his eyes. Everyone he knew had been getting married or moving in with significant others over the past several years. He was one of the few single one left. It was becoming increasingly difficult to find a co-worker willing to go to the pub with him after work.

“I miss the days when we’d all sit around the Leaky Cauldron after work,” he mused, taking another sip of his beer. “Remember when we’d stay out for hours? Sometimes it didn’t even matter if we had work the next day.”

He and Brandon shared a laugh, both ending with a wistful sigh.

“Those were the days,” Brandon agreed, “but I guess we had to grow up eventually. Being in a relationship isn't all that bad either, Graham. You should give it a shot. When’s the last time you went on a date?”

Graham rolled his eyes. The worst part of his co-workers and friends pairing off was their insistence that he needed a relationship of his own to be happy. The rise in people willing to talk his ear off about it had risen steadily alongside the growing amount of relationships.

“Dating is the last thing on my mind,” he said. “We’re swamped at work. Honestly, all I can think about is our research. Even at home it’s on my mind. Maybe it’s not healthy, but I like the work. I’m invested. Dating just doesn’t feel as important. Maybe that’ll change one day.”

Brandon sighed and shook his head.

“We’re a bit worried about you, mate. You’ve been saying the same thing for years. If you wait too long, will there be anyone left for you? Come on! A date or two would get your mind off work. You said yourself that you work too much for it to be healthy. A nice girl would be a distraction.”

Graham shook his head, his shoulders stiff.

“I don’t know, man. It just doesn’t sound like it’s for me right now. I like my freedom. You have to go home, but I get to stay out as late as I want. It’s nice being in complete control of myself and not having to worry about another person. If someone came along who I liked, I guess things would be different, but I’m not really looking for it.”

From the way Brandon shook his head, Graham could tell that he didn’t understand his point any better than he had the countless times they’d had similar discussions. None of his friends ever understood. He took a swig of his beer and tried not to let it bother him.

* * *

Graham held his breath as their first human patient gulped down the potion they had developed. Even as they ran the multitude of tests needed to confirm the results, it was difficult to remember to breathe. They had done it. The patient was as healthy as could be. Their potion had worked.

Graham was on cloud nine, and he didn’t know how to come back down again.

* * *

“Thanks to the verve of the researchers working on this project, society has reached a new era.”

Graham stared at the Minister standing up on the stage, unable to believe that he was one of the individuals she was heaping with praise. He wouldn’t have gone far as claiming a new era had come. That was just political speech designed to fire up her listeners, but he appreciated the compliment to their work all the same.

The lightness he’d felt since they’d confirmed their cure worked hadn’t left him. As soon as the Minister finished speaking, he wound his way through the crowd to find Brandon.

“Want to go for a drink and celebrate?” he asked.

“Again?” Brandon asked with a slight laugh. 

He looked over his shoulder to where his girlfriend was talking to several of the other researchers.

“Sorry,” Brandon said with a smirk. “I can’t go out tonight.”

Graham laughed, clapping Brandon on the back.

“No worries,” he said. As he left, he couldn’t resist yelling over his shoulder, “And you think I should date someone? Right.”

He saw Brandon begin to shake his head before he turned his back on him, off to find someone else willing to drink the night away.


	31. Accusations of Betrayal (Bellatrix and Andromeda; Andromeda/Ted)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda had hoped that somehow she could keep both her family and Ted. It had been a foolish hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Write about someone who is betrayed by a family member.  
> (character) Bellatrix Lestrange  
> Write about being abandoned.  
> Write about someone who changes their appearance.  
> Andromeda/Ted - H.M.S. Blood Traitor

The two sisters stared at each other, eyes wide and voices silent as they processed the moment. Andromeda had hidden her relationship with Ted with such precision that Bellatrix couldn’t have expected to find them together in a cupboard when she’d secretly followed Andromeda from the Slytherin Common Room. Andromeda wasn’t sure how she’d been followed at all.

“What are you doing?” Bellatrix snapped.

She lunged into the cupboard and wrapped her hand around Andromeda’s arm, tugging her into the corridor. Ted was barely able to avoid the door hitting him in the face as Bellatrix swung it shut with force.

“I knew you were up to something,” Bellatrix continued, voice rising dangerously in the otherwise deserted corridor, “but this is worse than anything I could have imagined. Mother will be beside herself when she learns you’ve been sneaking around with Mudblood filth. Aunt Walburga will blast you off the tree. Is that what you want, Andromeda?”

Andromeda’s jaw tightened. She squared her shoulders as she looked her older sister right in the eyes and tried to ignore the fire she saw there.

“Calm down,” she said, surprising even herself with the level nature of her voice. “Anyone could hear you out here.”

Bellatrix gave a short laugh.

“Calm down!? How am I meant to do that when I’ve just discovered that my own sister is a blood traitor? How dare you do this to our family. You’ve betrayed everything sacred to the Blacks. To think I let you sneak around for months because I thought you were getting up to harmless fun. Forget the family, you’ve betrayed _my_ trust, Andie. Do you not feel any remorse?”

Shivers travelled down Andromeda’s spine, but she didn’t back down. Ted placed his hand against her back, and she felt as if he were transfering energy to her.

“I know how you feel about blood purity,” she said slowly, “but I haven’t betrayed you, Bella. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Bellatrix answered with a laugh that made Andromeda physically recoil.

“You’ve rejected your family, and you think you’ve done nothing wrong?”

Andromeda was filled with such anger that she took several steps forward, crowding into Bellatrix’s personal space without a care about the consequences of igniting her sister’s own fiery temper.

“I haven’t rejected anyone. You’re my sister, Bella. I want to be close with you. Knowing you’d react this way is why I kept my relationship with Ted a secret. This isn’t about rejecting you. But if you reject me…”

She trailed off, unable to finish the thought. There was disgust in Bellatrix’s eyes as she looked at her, and Andromeda knew that hope was lost. It had been since the day she’d returned Ted’s affections. By the end of the day, Bellatrix would send word to their parents, and any illusions Andromeda had held that she could hold onto both Ted and her family would be shattered.

“When Aunt Walburga burns you from the tapestry, I’ll cheer,” Bellatrix said in the coldest voice Andromeda had ever heard her use. “My biggest regret will be how similar we look. You don’t deserve the face of a Black. You’re lucky that I don’t disfigure you right now.”

Andromeda fell to the floor, sobbing, as Bellatrix disappeared down the corridor. Ted’s arms were quick to wrap around her, holding her as she cried. She knew Bellatrix was capable of terrible things, but she’d held hope that the dangerous fire inside her sister would never be directed towards her. No matter how radical Bellatrix had grown, Andromeda had held out hope that their love for each other would overpower Bellatrix’s disapproval of her actions in the end.

She had been foolish.

Ted murmured words of comfort in her ear, but none of them mattered. They couldn’t take back what had happened.

A strand of Andromeda’s long black hair fell in her face, and there was a pang in her chest as Bellatrix’s words echoed in her mind. She’d once prided herself on the hair she shared with her sister, thinking of Bellatrix as one of the most elegant people she knew. Now her own hair brought her nothing but anguish as a reminder of what she had just lost.

“Ted,” she said, voice cracking as she gripped tufts of her hair in both fists. “Help me cut it off.”

“What?” Ted asked, arms tightening around her.

She didn’t repeat her words, only looked at him slowly as he came to realize the seriousness of her request.

“No,” he said. “You’re distraught at the moment, Dromeda. Give it time. You’ll feel better. We shouldn’t—”

“Please,” she begged. “For me. I want it gone. All of it.”

They stared at each other for a moment, tears shining in Ted’s eyes.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

It took minutes for the hair to be gone but years before she would allow it to grow back.


	32. Shining Eyes (AlbusGellert)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus wants to fulfill his duties to his siblings until Gellert makes himself seem more important than anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald - H.M.S. The Greater Good  
> (word) slave  
> Write a pairing you've never written before.

Albus swept the broom back and forth methodically over the kitchen floor, unable to hold in a sigh as he went. He could easily have used magic to clean the house, but Aberforth had made him feel guilty for ignoring his responsibilities and going off with Gellert. Sweeping the Muggle way felt like a form of penance, even if Aberforth was locked away in his room and didn’t see it. As soon as Albus dared to pick up a book, his brother would be sure to appear and have something to say about it.

There was a knock on the back door of the house, and Albus’ eyes shot in that direction, his heart hammering before he saw Gellert standing on the other side of the glass. Albus rushed forward to let him in, the broom falling to the floor as he went.

His palms were already sweating, and he was conscious of how he must have looked after doing chores the Muggle way for the better part of two hours. It was a far cry from how carefully he usually took care of his appearance when Gellert was around, but just the fact that Gellert had snuck over to see him on his own was enough to distract Albus from any of that.

“Are you planning to slave away in the kitchen all day?” Gellert asked, casting a suspicious glance at the abandoned broom on the floor. “Or were you planning to do something that was actually useful to the world?”

Albus sighed, willing the heat in his cheeks to dissipate before they became bright red.

“There’s no one else to do it,” he said. “Aberforth has summer work to do fro school, and I’m the eldest. I have to keep the house clean.”

Gellert hummed as if he’d already forgotten the topic of conversation. He turned his back towards the broom to look at Albus, and Albus felt ashamed, though he knew that he shouldn’t have been. He longed to be in Gellert’s position, free to think of higher ideals all day and not bother himself with trivial matters like sweeping the floor. As far as Albus knew, Bagshot didn’t ask Gellert to do so much as empty the rubbish bin.

Albus kept his gaze on Gellert, ignoring the discarded broom as easily as his friend had.

“What did you want to do?” he asked.

The smirk that appeared on Gellert’s face threatened to undo Albus, and he let himself muse briefly that staying at home to clean would be better for his health. Reaching out, Gellert took his hand and began pulling him from the house. Albus struggled to follow as his heart raced, the sound of it beating loud in his ears. He could only hope that Gellert couldn’t hear it as distinctly as he could.

“I was thinking all night, and I want to run some new ideas by you,” Gellert said over his shoulder as they went. “I think I may have come up with a way to help the world see that our plans really are for the greater good.”

Albus beamed at the back of Gellert’s head as he followed, not even caring if Gellert turned around to see the way his eyes shone at him.


	33. A White Dress (Fleur/Tonks)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some wedding traditions Fleur can't escape the thrall of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> sweet  
> "It's so...bright"  
> milk white

Fleur ran her fingers along the milk white satin of the dress. She was mesmerized by it. While she’d had dreams of finding the perfect wedding dress, part of her hadn’t believed she’d manage it. The one currently in her hands had come as a surprise, catching her eye just as she was about to give up on that particular shop.

“Is that the one?” her mother asked from behind her.

Fleur turned her head over her shoulder to find her mother and Gabrielle looking at her with smiles on their lips. They knew the answer to that with as much certainty as she did.

“I think so,” Fleur said softly.

Her eyes roved over the dress again. She didn’t want to look away. In the back of her mind, she heard her mother speaking with the shop owner in rapid French, but she didn’t bother to process what was being said. The dress took up too much of her attention.

By the time she’d put it on not ten minutes later, she knew her initial feeling had been right. Tears pricked at her eyes as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. There wasn’t a dress in existence that could have been as perfect as the one that had become hers.

* * *

Later that day, as she and Tonks were curled up together on the sofa, Fleur’s mind was still on that wedding dress, safely stored away at her parents’ house.

“I still think it’s ridiculous that I can’t see it until the wedding day,” Tonks said, her lower lip sticking out in a pout.

Fleur took a sip of her tea before answering.

“It’s tradition.”

“Lots of ridiculous things are traditions,” Tonks said with a scoff. “If I wanted to be ‘traditional,’” she put air quotes around the word, “I’d be marrying a man for one.”

Fleur rolled her eyes at the smirk Tonks sent her way, but she leaned over to kiss her fiancée on the lips all the same, patting her leg as she pulled away.

“I know you think white wedding dresses are a pointless thing, but this dress was beautiful, Tonks.” She couldn’t keep the dreamy tone from her voice as her mind wandered back to that dress and the way she had felt while wearing it. “Besides, I don’t think it’s ridiculous that I only want you to see me the day of. Sue me for wanting the entire crowd to see your reaction.”

“I’ll try to be sufficiently impressed,” Tonks assured her in a flat voice, earning herself a pointed look in response.

“Remember,” Fleur said, waving her pointer finger through the air, “I don’t want to see what you’re wearing either. I’d much rather wait until the day.”

Tonks sighed and leant her head back to rest against the top of the sofa.

“Why?” she whined, not for the first time. “My outfit isn’t going to be anything to write home about. I don’t care about finding the perfect dress like you do. If it were entirely up to me, I’d be in a t-shirt and jeans through the whole thing. Something comfortable.”

“Which is fine with me. I just don’t want to see those t-shirt and jeans until the day.”

Andromeda would never actually let Tonks wear such casual clothes, though Fleur really would have been fine with it. There was a rush of adrenaline in her stomach as she imagined her and Tonks’ first sights of each other on the day of the wedding. She agreed with Tonks that many of the traditions surrounding weddings were outdated, to be generous in the characterization, but this was one she was invested in.

“Isn’t it fun?” she asked, unable to stop herself from bobbing in her seat. “I keep trying to decide what colour your hair will be that day.” Fleur ran her fingers through Tonks’ currently purple hair. “But I can’t decide. I think whatever colour you decide to go with will be perfect.”

Tonks gave her a small smile.

“That’s sweet,” she said. “Too sweet. Don’t convince me to show up to the wedding with my natural poop-brown hair.”

Fleur shoved at her shoulder, but she was giggling.

“Regardless of what you think of it, I love your natural hair colour. I’d be more than happy to see it on our wedding day.”

Tonks’ smile softened. She took Fleur’s left hand and began playing with the engagement ring on her finger, another one of those wedding traditions that Fleur hadn’t escaped the thrall of. She’d been shocked when Tonks had given in and proposed with a diamond.

She watched Tonks play with it, turning her hand to make the light dance off the surface.

“It’s so...bright,” Tonks said quietly, something akin to reverence in her voice. “How do you wear this all day without getting distracted?”

“It’s perfect,” Fleur said. “And it’ll be even more perfect once it’s paired with the dress.”

Tonks gave her another smile, lifting her hand to place a kiss on the back of it.

* * *

Fleur’s heart raced in her chest as Tonks came into view. The suit she’d chosen to wear was a light pink that suited her chosen pastel purple hair perfectly. The best part was the look on Tonks’ own face as she saw Fleur and the dress that had been hidden away for months. Despite Tonks’ complaints, the look made the effort worth it in Fleur’s eyes.

As soon as she reached her soon-to-be wife, Fleur gathered up her hands, using them to keep herself steady.

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t see me before the wedding?” Fleur whispered just loud enough for Tonks—and the minister she was ignoring—to hear.

Tonks let out a short, watery laugh but didn’t otherwise answer the question. She squeezed Fleur’s fingers, running her thumbs along the back of her hands, and that was enough of an answer for Fleur.


	34. Brothers (Fat Friar)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After becoming a ghost, the Fat Friar visits his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Fat Friar

The Fat Friar, as he would come to be called in time, floated right through the walls of his brother’s house. It wasn’t lost on him that his brother lived alone in a house that was larger than the seminary in which the Friar had lived with fifty other priests while he was living. Excess had always been his brother’s way, and he knew that magic had been used to unfairly gain much of it. The thought left a bitter taste in the Friar’s mouth despite his lack of a physical body.

His brother was sat at a desk, scribbling on parchment with a ferocity that hinted at impending doom. That was something else to be expected of his brother. Everything was against him, or so he claimed.

The man sensed the Friar’s presence and froze, his eyes wide as he looked up from the parchment.

“No,” he breathed quietly. “I’d heard rumours that you’d returned, but I hoped they weren’t true.”

“Because you hoped for a better afterlife for me?” Friar asked. “Or, perhaps, you didn’t wish to face me again.”

His brother didn’t answer him, so the Friar continued.

“I thought I was satisfied with the life I’d lived and that I would enter into the afterlife with a sense of peace. It was only after I was in this form that I finally realized what my unfinished business was: you. I have helped many people in my life, brother, but I’m afraid that I failed you.”

His brother snarled at him, face twisting into an ugly look.

“Failed me?” he mocked. “Look around you, brother. You lived a poor life as a beggar as you wished, but I have done well for myself. You’ve failed no one. Staying here was a mistake. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that someone like you would reject the heavenly reward as much as you did the earthly one. I have no such weaknesses.”

Friar floated closer, trying to ignore the way his brother shrank away from him.

“That isn’t what I meant,” he said. “I’m concerned with everything but your accumulation of wealth. Look around you, dear brother. Your wife is gone, and you married your daughters off to the wealthiest men who would take them inconsequential of their happiness. When was the last time they visited? Have you spoken to another living soul in years without a business transaction involved?”

His brother’s jaw was tight as he stood from his desk, squaring his shoulders.

“There was a time when I was jealous of you,” he said slowly. “You were content with your begging. Each time I bought something new, I wanted to tell you about it, and each time you were unimpressed. I wished I could feel that way. I wanted to find alternate sources of joy in the world, but I never did.

“You think I mourn my wife? She married me for my money and nothing more. I knew that before the ceremony, but what was I to do? I had little choice in the matter. Just as I could never make my daughters like me unless they wanted something from me. That has always been the way my world worked. Eventually, I had to stop envying you. I had to stop living out a rivalry that, it seemed, was merely in my own head.”

“You’re wrong,” Friar said with a sad shake of his head. “There was a time I envied you, a time where I wished that I, too, had acquired money. It would have been far more useful for helping people. Perhaps, then, we could have helped each other after all. But there’s still hope. There are still ways you can make your money worth something, brother. Perhaps that is my purpose here. I am meant to guide you towards a renewal of your soul. There are so many who could benefit from a small percentage of the money you’ve earned.”

His brother looked back at him with an uncertainty that broke the Friar’s transparent heart. He frowned down at the human who still had so much potential to turn his life around. He knew his brother well enough to suspect that potential would be wasted, though part of him still hoped for more.

“I will be at Hogwarts,” Friar said, beginning to rise towards the ceiling. “If you wish to speak to you, I can guide you down a different path. All you need to do is ask.”

His brother averted his eyes to the floor, and Friar took the opportunity to disappear through the roof. The journey back to Hogwarts was long, even for a ghost.


	35. Rule Breaker (Gideon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gideon doesn't like following the rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Gideon Prewett

When Gideon left Hogwarts, he had meant for it to be the last time he had to follow rules. Technically, any job would have had rules, but he’d been determined to find just the right one that following the “rules” wouldn’t feel like such because they’d just be what he wanted to do anyway. That was the only requirement of his dream job, and he’d been confident that he could make it work as long as he was committed to his search.

It hadn’t worked out like he had hoped.

Joining the Order had been a no-brainer. With a war going on, he wasn’t going to sit around when he could fight. He’d known right away that joining meant following rules. That’s how things worked when you basically belonged to an army. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe the Order would be different, but he had underestimated just how often he’d be given orders.

It was starting to feel like all he ever did was do what he was told. Despite his increasing experience, he never got to make decisions of his own, and it was wearing his patience down.

“Can you do that?” Dumbledore asked, leaning forward and leveling him with a look that made his point clear.

They were alone in his office at Hogwarts, the door firmly shut and charmed to protect against unwanted intruders or eavesdropping. Gideon felt eerily like he was back at school, and it angered him in ways he’d never admit out loud.

“Yes, sir.”

Dumbledore watched him for a moment, not moving. He added, “Can you follow my instructions without any deviation? We cannot afford any recklessness in this scenario. The outcome is too important.”

Gideon bit his tongue. He’d disobeyed orders once when not doing so had felt like a life or death matter. He didn’t understand why the indiscretion was still being held over his head. They all knew he’d had good intentions that just hadn’t worked out the way he had hoped for them to.

“Yes, sir,” he repeated, not succeeding in keeping the bitterness out of his voice.

Dumbledore’s lips quirked upward in the small hint of a smile, but he didn’t otherwise comment.

“Very well,” he said. “I trust you to keep your word.”

As Gideon left the office, he couldn’t help but sigh. He hoped he could keep his word too.


End file.
